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RIGHT  ROYAL 


By  JOHN  MASEFIELD 

ROSAS 

GALLIPOLI 

ENSLAVED 

THE  FAITHFUL 

LOST  ENDEAVOUR 

THE  DAFFODIL  FIELDS 

SELECTED   POEMS 

A  MAINSAIL  HAUL 

CAPTAIN  MARGARET 

THE  OLD   FRONT   LINE 

THE  WAR  AND  THE  FUTURE 

MULTITUDE  AND  SOLITUDE 

GOOD  FRIDAY  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

SALT-WATER  POEMS  AND  BALLADS 

PHILIP  THE  KING  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

THE  TRAGEDY  OF  POMPEY  THE  GREAT 

LOLLINGDON  DOWNS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  AND  OTHER  PLAYS 

THE   LOCKED   CHEST   AND   THE   SWEEPS   OF 
NINETY-EIGHT 

REYNARD   THE   FOX,    OR    THE    GHOST    HEATH 
RUN 

THE  STORY  OF  A  ROUND-HOUSE  AND  OTHER 
POEMS 

COLLECTED  POEMS  AND  PLAYS:  VOL.  I,  POEMS; 
VOL.   II,  PLAYS 

THE  EVERLASTING  MERCY  AND  THE  WIDOW 
IN  THE  BYE  STREET 


RIGHT  ROYAL 

By 
JOHN  MASEFIELD 


Nsto  fork 

THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 
1920 

AU  rights  resened 


Copyright,  1920 
By  JOHN  MASEFIELD 
,  up  and  electro  typed.    Published,  October,  1920 


A 


NOTE 

The  persons,  horses  and  events  described 
in  this  poem  are  imaginary.  No  reference 
is  made  to  any  living  person  or  horse. 

JOHN  MASEFIELD. 


PART  I 


RIGHT  ROYAL 

An    hour    before    the    race    they    talked 

together 
A  pair  of  lovers  in  the  mild  March  weather, 
Charles  Cothill  and  the  golden  lady,  Em. 

Beautiful  England's  hands  had  fashioned 
them. 

He  was  from  Sleins,  that  manor  up  the 

Lithe ; 
Riding  the   Downs   had  made   his   body 

blithe ; 
Stalwart  he  was,  and  springy,  hardened, 

swift, 
Able  for  perfect  speed  with  perfect  thrift, 
Man  to  the  core  yet  moving  like  a  lad. 
Dark  honest  eyes  with  merry  gaze  he  had, 
A  fine  firm  mouth,  and  wind-tan  on  his 

skin. 
He  was  to  ride  and  ready  to  begin. 

8 


4  RIGHT   ROYAL 

He  was  to  ride  Right  Royal,  his  own  horse, 

In  the  English  Chaser  ^s  Cup  on  Compton 
Course. 

Under  the  pale  coat  reaching  to  his  spurs 
One  saw  his  colours,  which  were  also  hers, 
Narrow  alternate  bars  of  blue  and  white 
Blue  as  the  speedwell's  eye  and  silver 
bright. 

What  with  hard  work  and  waiting  for  the 
race. 

Trouble  and  strain  were  marked  upon  his 
face; 

Men  would  have  said  that  something  wor- 
ried him. 

She  was  a  golden  lady,  dainty,  trim. 
As  like  the  love  time  as  laburnum  blossom. 
Mirth,  truth  and  goodness  harboured  in  her 
bosom. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  6 

Pure  colour  and  pure  contour  and  pure 

grace 
Made  the  sweet  marvel  of  her  singing  face; 
She  was  the  very  may-time  that  comes  in 
When   hawthorns    bud   and    nightingales 

begin. 
To  see  her  tread  the  red-tippt  daisies  white 
In  the  green  fields  all  golden  with  delight, 
Was  to  believe  Queen  Venus  come  again, 
She  was  as  dear  as  sunshine  after  rain; 
Such  loveliness  this  golden  lady  had. 

All  lovely  things  and  pure  things  made 

her  glad, 
But  most  she  loved  the  things  her  lover 

loved, 
The  windy  Downlands  where  the  kestrels 

roved. 
The  sea  of  grasses  that  the  wind  runs  over 
Where  blundering  beetles  drunken  from 

the  clover 
Stumble  about  the  startled  passer-by. 


6  RIGHT   ROYAL 

There  on  the  great  grass  underneatli  the 

sky 
She  loved  to  ride  with  him  for  hours  on 

hours, 
Smelling   the   seasoned   grass   and  those 

small  jflowers, 
Milkworts  and  thymes,  that  grow  upon  the 

Downs. 
There  from  a  chalk  edge  they  would  see 

the,  towns : 
Smoke  above  trees,  by  day,  or  spires  of 

churches 
Gleaming   with    swinging   wind-cocks    on 

their  perches. 
Or  windows  flashing  in  the  light,  or  trains 
Burrowing  below  white  smoke  across  the 

plains. 
By  night,  the  darkness  of  the  valley  set 
With  scattered  lights  to  where  the  ridges 

met 
And  three  great  glares  making  the  heaven 

dun, 
Oxford  and  Wallingford  and  Abingdon. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  1 

**Dear,  in  an  hour,"  said  Charles,  *'the 

race  begins. 
Before  I  start  I  must  confess  my  sins. 
For  I  have  sinned,  and  now  it  troubles  me.'' 

"I  saw  that  you  were  sad,''  said  Emily. 

"Before  I  speak,"  said  Charles,  *'I  must 

premise. 
You  were  not  here  to  help  me  to  be  wise, 
And  something  happened,  difficult  to  tell. 
Even  if  I  sinned,  I  feel  I  acted  well, 
From  inspiration,  mad  as  that  may  seem. 
Just  at  the  grey  of  dawn  I  had  a  dream. 

It  was  the  strangest  dream  I  ever  had. 
It  was  the  dream  that  drove  me  to  be  mad. 

I  dreamed  I  stood  upon  the  race-course 

here. 
Watching   a  blinding  rainstorm  blowing 

clear, 
And  as  it  blew  away  I  said  aloud, 
*That  rain  will  make  soft  going  on  the 

ploughed.' 


8  RIGHT   ROYAL 

And  instantly  I  saw  the  whole  great  course, 
The  grass,  the  brooks,  the  fences  toppt  with 

gorse, 
Gleam  in  the  sun;  and  all  the  ploughland 

shone 
Blue,  like  a  marsh,  though  now  the  rain 

had  gone. 
And  in  my  dream  I  said,  'That  plough 

will  be 
Terrible  work  for  some,  but  not  for  me. 
Not  for  Eight  Royal.' 

And  a  voice  said,  *No 
Not  for  Right  Royal.' 

And  I  looked,  and  lo 
There  was  Right  Royal,  speaking,  at  my 

side. 
The  horse's  very  self,  and  yet  his  hide 
Was  like,  what  shall  I  say?  like  pearl  on 

fire, 
A  white  soft  glow  of  burning  that  did 

twire 
Like  soft  white-heat  with  every  breath  he 

drew. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  9 

A  glow,   with   utter  brightness   running 

through ; 
Most  splendid,  though  I  cannot  make  you 

see. 

His  great  crest  glittered  as  he  looked  at  me 
Criniered  with  spitting  sparks ;  he  stamped 

the  ground 
All  cock  and  fire,  trembling  like  a  hound, 
And  glad  of  me,  and  eager  to  declare 
His  horse's  mind. 

And  I  was  made  aware 
That,  being  a  horse,  his  mind  could  only- 
say 
Few  things  to  me.    He  said,  'It  is  my  day, 
My  day,  to-day;  I  shall  not  have  another/ 

And  as  he  spoke  he  seemed  a  younger 

brother 
Most  near,  and  yet  a  horse,  and  then  he 

grinned 
And  tossed  his  crest  and  crinier  to  the  wind 


10  RIGHT   ROYAL 

And  looked  down  to  the  Water  with  an  eye 
All  fire  of  soul  to  gallop  dreadfully. 

All  this  was  strange,  but  then  a  stranger 
thing 

Came  afterwards.    I  woke  all  shivering 

With  wonder  and  excitement,  yet  with 
dread 

Lest  the  dream  meant  that  Royal  should 
be  dead. 

Lest  he  had  died  and  come  to  tell  me  so. 

I  hurried  out;  no  need  to  hurry,  though; 

There  he  was  shining  like  a  morning  star. 

Now  hark.  You  know  how  cold  his  man- 
ners are. 

Never  a  whinny  for  his  dearest  friend. 

To-day  he  heard  me  at  the  courtyard  end, 

He  left  his  breakfast  with  a  shattering  call, 

A  View  Halloo,  and,  swinging  in  his  stall, 

Ean  up  to  nuzzle  me  with  signs  of  joy. 

It  staggered  Harding  and  the  stable-boy. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  11 

And  Harding  said,  *  What's  come  to  him 

to-day? 
He  mnst  have  had  a  dream  he  beat  the 

bay.' 

Now  that  was  strange;  and,  what  was 

stranger,  this. 
I  know  he  tried  to  say  those  words  of  his, 
*It  is  my  day';  and  Harding  turned  to  me, 
*It  is  his  day  to-day,  that's  plain  to  see.' 
Right  Royal  nuzzled  at  me  as  he  spoke. 
That  staggered  me.    I  felt  that  I  should 

choke. 
It  came  so  pat  upon  my  unsaid  thought, 
I  asked  him  what  he  meant. 

He  answered  *  Naught. 
It  only  came  into  my  head  to  say. 
But  there  it  is.    To-day's  Right  Royal's 
day.' 

That  was  the  dream.  I  cannot  put  the  glory 


12  RIGHT   ROYAL 

With  which  it  filled  my  being,  in  a  story. 
No  one  can  tell  a  dream. 

Now  to  confess. 
The  dream  made  daily  life  a  nothingness, 
Merely  a  mould  which  white-hot  beauty 

fills, 
Pure  from  some  source  of  passionate  joys 

and  skills. 
And  being  flooded  with  my  vision  thus. 
Certain  of  winning,  puffed  and  glorious. 
Walking  upon  this  earth-top  like  a  king. 
My  judgment  went.    I  did  a  foolish  thing, 
I  backed  myself  to  win  with  all  I  had. 

Now  that  it's  done  I  see  that  it  was  mad. 

But  still,  I  had  to  do  it,  feeling  so. 

That  is  the  full  confession;  now  you  know. ' ' 

She 

The  thing  is  done,  and  being  done,  must  be. 
You  cannot  hedge.    Would  you  had  talked 
with  me 


BIGHT   ROYAL  13 

Before  yon  plunged.    But  there,  the  thing 
is  done. 

He 

Do  not  exaggerate  the  risks  I  run. 

Right  Royal  was  a  bad  horse  in  the  past, 

A  rogue,  a  cur,  but  he  is  cured  at  last; 

For  I  was  right,  his  former  owner  wrong. 

He  is  a  game  good  chaser  going  strong. 

He  and  my  lucky  star  may  pull  me  through. 

She 

0  grant  they  may;  but  think  what's  racing 

you. 
Think  for  a  moment  what  his  chances  are 
Against  Sir  Lopez,  Soyland,  Kubbadar. 

He 

You  said  you  thought  Sir  Lopez  past  his 
best. 

1  do,  myself. 

She 

But  there  are  all  the  rest. 


14  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Peterkinooks,  Red  Ember,  Counter  Vair, 
And  then  Grey  Glory  and  the  Irish  mare. 

He 

She's  scratched.    The  rest  are  giving  me 

a  stone. 
Unless   the   field   hides    something    quite 

unknown 
I  stand  a  chance.    The  going  favours  me. 
The  ploughland  will  be  bogland  certainly, 
After  this  rain.    If  Royal  keeps  his  nerve. 
If  no  one  cannons  me  at  jump  or  swerv^e, 
I  stand  a  chance.    And  though  I  dread  to 

fail, 
This  passionate  dream  that  drives  me  like 

a  sail 
Runs  in  my  blood,  and  cries,  that  I  shall 

win. 

She 

Please  Heaven  you  may;  but  now  (for  me) 
begin 


RIGHT   ROYAL  15 

Again  the  horrors  that  I  cannot  tell, 
Horrors  that  made  my  childhood  such  a 

hell, 
Watching  my  Father  near  the  gambler's 

grave 
Step  after  step,  yet  impotent  to  save. 

You  do  not  know,  I  never  let  you  know, 
The  horror  of  those  days  of  long  ago 
When  Father  raced  to  ruin.    Every  night 
After  my  Mother  took  away  the  light 
For  weeks  before  each  meeting,  I  would  see 
Horrible  horses  looking  down  on  me 
Laughing  and  saying  **We  shall  beat  your 

Father.'' 
Then  when  the  meetings  came  I  used  to 

gather 
Close  up  to  Mother,  and  we  used  to  pray. 
'*0  God,  for  Christ's  sake,  let  him  win 

to-day." 

And  then  we  had  to  watch  for  his  return, 


16  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Craning  onr  necks  to  see  if  we  could  learn, 
Before  he  entered,  what  the  week  had  been. 

Now  I  shall  look  on  such  another  scene 
Of  waiting  on  the  race-chance.  For  to-day. 
Just  as  I  did  with  Father,  I  shall  say 
**Yes,  he'll  be  beaten  by  a  head,  or  break 
A  stirrup  leather  at  the  wall,  or  take 
The  brook  too  slow,  and,  then,  all  will  be 
lost.'' 

Daily,  in  mind,  I  saw  the  Winning  Post, 
The  Straight,  and  all  the  horses'  glimmer- 
ing forms 
Eushing    between    the    railings'    yelling 

swarms, 
My  Father's  colours  leading.    Every  day, 
Closing  my  eyes,  I  saw  them  die  away. 
In  the  last  strides,  and  lose,  lose  by  a  neck, 
Lose  by  an  inch,  but  lose,  and  bring  the 

wreck 
A  day's  march  nearer.    Now  begins  again 


BIGHT   ROYAL  17 

The  agony  of  waiting  for  the  pain. 
The  agony  of  watching  ruin  come 
Out   of   man's   dreams    to    overwhelm   a 
home. 

Go  now,  my  dear.    Before  the  race  is  due, 
We'll  meet  again,  and  then  I'll  speak  with 
you. 

In  a  race-course  box  behind  the  Stand 
Eight  Eoyal  shone  from  a  strapper's  hand. 
A  big  dark  bay  with  a  restless  tread, 
Fetlock  deep  in  a  wheat-straw  bed; 
A  noble  horse  of  a  nervy  blood. 
By  0  Mon  Eoi  out  of  Eectitude. 
Something  quick  in  his  eye  and  ear 
Gave  a  hint  that  he  might  be  queer. 
In  front,  he  was  all  to  a  horseman's  mind, 
Some  thought  him  a  trifle  light  behind. 
By  two  good  points  might  his  rank  be 

known, 
A  beautiful  head  and  a  Jumping  Bone. 


18  RIGHT   ROYAL 

He  had  been  the  hope  of  Sir  Button  Bndd, 
Who  bred  him  there  at  the  Fletchings  stud, 
But  the  Fletchings  jockey  had  flogged  him 

cold 
In  a  narrow  thing  as  a  two-year-old. 
After  that,  with  his  sulks  and  swerves, 
Dread  of  the  crowd  and  fits  of  nerves, 
Like  a  wastrel  bee  who  makes  no  honey 
He  had  hardly  earned  his  entry  money. 

Liking  him  still,  though  he  failed  at  racing, 
Sir  Button  trained  him  for  steeple-chasing. 
He  jumped  like  a  stag,  but  his  heart  was 

cowed; 
Nothing  would  make  him  face  the  crowd; 
When  he  reached  the  Straight  where  the 

crowds  began 
He  would  make  no  effort  for  any  man. 

Sir  Button  sold  him,  Charles  Cothill  bought 

him, 
Rode   him   to   hounds   and   soothed   and 

taught  him. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  19 

After  two  years'  care  Charles  felt  assured 
That  his  horse's  broken  heart  was  cured, 
And  the  jangled  nerves  in  tune  again. 

And  now,  as  proud  as  a  King  of  Spain, 
He  moved  in  his  box  with  a  restless  tread. 
His  eyes  like  sparks  in  his  lovely  head, 
Ready  to  run  between  the  roar 
Of  the  stands  that  face  the  Straight  once 

more; 
Ready  to  race,  though  blown,  though  beat. 
As  long  as  his  will  could  lift  his  feet. 
Ready  to  burst  his  heart  to  pass 
Each  gasping  horse  in  that  street  of  grass. 
John  Harding  said  to  his  stable-boy, 

**  Would  looks  were  deeds,  for  he  looks  a 
joy. 

He's  come  on  well  in  the  last  ten  days." 
The  horse  looked  up  at  the  note  of  praise, 
He  fixed  his  eye  upon  Harding's  eye. 
Then  he  put  all  thought  of  Harding  by, 
Then  his  ears  went  back  and  he  clipped  all 
clean 


20  RIGHT   ROYAL 

The  manger's  well  where  his  oats  had  been. 

John  Harding  walked  to  the  stable-yard, 
His  brow  was  worried  with  thinking  hard. 
He  thought,  **His  sire  was  a  Derby  winner, 
His  legs  are  steel,  and  he  loves  his  dinner. 
And  yet  of  old  when  they  made  him  race. 
He  sulked  or  funked  like  a  real  disgrace; 
Now  for  man  or  horse,  I  say,  it's  plain, 
That  what  once  he's  been,  he'll  be  again. 

For  all  his  looks,  I'll  take  my  oath 
That  horse  is  a  cur,  and  slack  as  sloth. 

He'll  funk  at  a  great  big  field  like  this, 
And  the  lad  won't  cure  that  sloth  of  his. 
He  stands  no  chance,  and  yet  Bungay  says 
He's  been  backed  all  morning  a  hundred 

ways. 
He   was   twenty  to   one,  last  night,   by 

Heaven: 
Twenty  to  one  and  now  he's  seven. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  21 

Well,  one  of  these  fools  whom  fortune  loves 
Has  made  up  his  mind  to  go  for  the  gloves ; 
But  here 's  Dick  Cappell  to  bring  me  news. '  ^ 

Dick  Cappell  came  from  a  London  Mews, 
His    fleshless    face    was    a    stretcht    skin 

sheath 
For  the  narrow  pear  of  the  skull  beneath. 
He  had  cold  blue  eyes,  and  a  mouth  like  a 

slit, 
With  yellow  teeth  sticking  out  from  it. 
There  was  no  red  blood  in  his  lips  or  skin. 
He'd  a  sinister,  hard,  sharp  soul  within. 
Perhaps,  the  thing  that  he  most  enjoyed 
Was  being  rude  when  he  felt  annoyed. 
He  sucked  his  cane,  he  nodded  to  John, 
He  asked,  ** What's  brought  your  lamb- 
kin onr' 

John  said,  '*I  had  meant  to  ask  of  you, 
Who's  backing  him,  Dick,  I  hoped  you 
knew." 


22:  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Dick  said,  **Pill  Stewart  has  placed  tha 

money. 
I  don't  know  whose.*' 

John  said,  ** That's  funny.'' 

**Why  funny?"  said  Dick;  but  John  said 

naught; 
He  looked  at  the  horse's  legs  and  thought. 
Yet  at  last  he  said,  **It  beats  me  clean, 
But  whoever  he  is,  he  must  be  green. 
There  are  eight  in  this  could  give  him  a 

stone. 
And  twelve  should  beat  him  on  form  alone. 
The  lad  can  ride,  but  it 's  more  than  riding 
That  will  give  the  bay  and  the  grey  a 

hiding." 

Dick  sucked  his  cane  and  looked  at  the 

horse 
With    '* Nothing's    certain    on    Compton 

Course. 
He  looks  a  peach.     Have  yon  tried  him 

high!" 


RIGHT   ROYAL  23 

John  said,  **You  know  him  as  well  as  I; 

What  he  has  done  and  what  he  can  do. 

He^s  been  ridden  to  hounds  this  year  or 
two. 

When  last  he  was  raced,  he  made  the  run- 
ning. 

For  a  stable  companion  twice  at  Sunning. 

He  was  placed,  bad  third,  in  the  Blowbury 
Cup 

And  second  at  Tew  with  Kingston  up. 

He  sulked  at  Folkestone,  he  funked  at 
Speen, 

He  baulked  at  the  ditch  at  Hampton  Green, 

Nick  Kingston  thought  him  a  slug  and  cur, 

*you  must  cut  his  heart  out  to  make  him 
stir.' 

But  his  legs  are  iron;  he's  fine  and  fit." 

Dick  said,  '* Maybe;  but  he^s  got  no  grit. 
With  to-day's  big  field,  on  a  course  like 

this, 
He  will  come  to  grief  with  that  funk  of  his. 


24  EIGHT   ROYAL 

Well.     It's   queer,   to   me,   that   they've 

brought  him  on. 
It's    Kubbadar's    race.      Good    morning, 

John.'' 


When  Dick  had  gone  from  the  stable-yard, 
John  wrote  a  note  on  a  racing  card. 
He  said,  **  Since  Stewart  has  placed  the 

com.. 
It's  Mr.  Cothill  he  got  it  from. 
Now  why  should  that  nice  young  man  go 

blind 
And  back  his  horse  1   Has  he  lost  his  mind  1 
Such  a  nice  young  fellow,  so  civil-spoken, 
Should  have  more  sense  than  to  get  him 

broken. 
For  broken  he'll  be  as  sure  as  eggs 
If  he  puts  his  money  on  horses '  legs. 
And  to  trust  to  this,  who 's  a  nice  old  thing. 
But  can  no  more  win  than  a  cow  can  sing. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  25 

Well,   they   say   that   wisdom   is   dearly 

bought, 
A  world  of  pain  for  a  want  of  thought; 
But  why  should  he  back  what  stands  no 

chance, 
No  more  than  the  Rowley  Mile's  in  France ? 
Why  didn't  he  talk  of  it  first  with  me? 

Well,  Lord,  we  trainers  can  let  it  be. 
Why  can't  these  owners  abstain  the  same? 
It  can't  be  aught  but  a  losing  game. 
He'll  finish  ninth;  he'll  be  forced  to  sell 
His  horse,  his  stud,  and  his  home  as  well; 
He'll  lose  his  lady,  and  all  for  this 
A  daft  belief  in  that  horse  of  his. 

It's  nothing  to  me,  a  man  might  say. 
That  a  rich  young  fool  should  be  cast  away. 
Though  what  he  does  with  his  own,  in  fine, 
Is  certainly  no  concern  of  mine. 
I'm  paid  to  see  that  his  horse  is  fit, 


26  RIGHT  ROYAL 

I  can't  engage  for  an  owner's  wit. 

For  the  heart  of  a  man  may  love  his 
brother, 

But  who  can  be  wise  to  save  another! 

Souls  are  our  own  to  save  from  burning, 

We  must  all  learn  how,  and  pay  for  learn- 
ing. 

And  now,  by  the  clock,  that  bell  that  went 
Was  the  Saddling  Bell  for  the  first  event. 

Since  the  time  comes  close,  it  will  save 

some  swearing 
If  we  get  beforehand,  and  start  preparing.*' 

The   roads   were   filled   with   a   drifting 

crowd, 
Many  mouth-organs  droned  aloud, 
A  couple  of  lads  in  scarlet  hats. 
Yellow  trousers  and  purple  spats. 
Dragged  their  banjos,  wearily  eyeing 
Passing  brakes  full  of  sportsmen  Hi-ing. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  27 

Then  with  a  long  horn  blowing  a  glory 
Came  the  four-in-hand  of  the  young  Lord 

Tory, 
The  young  Lord's  eyes  on  his  leader's 

ears 
And    the    blood-like    team    going    by    to 

cheers. 
Then    in    a    brake    came    cheerers    and 

hooters 
Peppering  folk  from  tin  peashooters; 
The  Green  Man's  Friendly  in  bright  mauve 

caps 
Followed  fast  in  the  Green  Man's  traps, 
The  crowd  made  way  for  the  traps  to  pass 
Then  a  drum  beat  up  with  a  blare  of  brass, 
Medical  students  smart  as  paint 
Sang  gay  songs  of  a  sad  complaint. 

A  wolf -eyed  man  who  carried  a  kipe 
Whistled  as  shrill  as  a  man  could  pipe, 
Then  paused  and  grinned  with  his  gaps 
of  teeth 


28  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Crying  ** Here's  your  colours  for  Compton 

Heath, 
All  the  colours  of  all  the  starters, 
For  gentlemen's  ties  and  ladies'  garters; 
Here  you  have  them,  penny  a  pin. 
Buy  your  colours  and  see  them  win. 
Here  you  have  them,  the  favourites'  own, 
Sir  Lopez'  colours,  the  blue-white-roan. 
For  all  the  races  and  what '11  win  'em 
Real  jockey's  silk  with  a  pin  to  pin  'em." 

Out  of  his  kipe  he  sold  to  many 

Bright  silk  buttons  and  charged  a  penny. 

A  bookie  walked  with  his  clerk  beside  him. 
His  stool  on  his  shoulders  seemed  to  ride 

him. 
His  white  top-hat  bore  a  sign  which  ran 
**Your  old  pal  Bunkie  the  working  man." 
His   clothes   were  a  check   of   three-inch 

squares, 
**  Bright  brown  and  fawn  with  the  pearls 

in  pairs," 


RIQET   ROYAL  29 

Double  pearl  buttons  ran  down  the  side, 
The  knees  were  tight  and  the  ankles  wide, 
A  bright,  thick  chain  made  of  discs  of  tin 
Secured  a  board  from  his  waist  to  chin. 

The  men  in  the  brakes  that  passed  at  trot 
Read   ** First  past  Post''  and  *'Run  or 

Not.'' 
The  bookie's  face  was  an  angry  red, 
His  eyes  seemed  rolling  inside  his  head. 
His  clerk  was  a  lean  man,  secret,  spare, 
With  thin  lips  knowing  and  damp  black 

hair. 
A  big  black  bag  much  weathered  with  rain 
Hung  round  his  neck  by  a  leathered  chain. 

Seven  linked  dancers  singing  a  song 
Bowed  and  kicked  as  they  danced  along, 
The   middleman   thrust    and   pulled   and 

squeezed 
A  concertina  to  tunes  that  pleased. 
After  them,  honking,  with  Hey,  Hey,  Hey, 
Came  drivers  thrusting  to  clear  the  way. 
Drivers  vexed  by  the  concertina, 


so  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Saying  *'Go  bury  that  d d  hyena/' 

Drivers  dusty  with  wind-red  faces 
Leaning  out  of  their  driving-places. 
The  dancers  mocked  them  and  called  them 

names : 
''Look  at  our  butler,''  '* Drive  on,  James." 
The  cars  drove  past  and  the  dust  rose 

after, 
Little    boys    chased    them    yelling    with 

laughter. 
Clambering  on  them  when  they  slowed 
For  a  dirty  ride  down  a  perch  of  road. 
A  dark  green  car  with  a  smart  drab  lining 
Passed  with  a  stately  pair  reclining; 
Peering  walkers  standing  aside 
Saw  Soyland's  owner  pass  with  his  bride, 
Young  Sir  Eustace,  biting  his  lip. 
Pressing  his  chin  with  his  finger-tip, 
Nerves  on  edge,  as  he  could  not  choose. 
From  thought  of  the  bets  he  stood  to  lose. 
His  lady,  a  beauty  whom  thought  made 

pale. 
Frayed  from  fear  that  the  horse  might  fail. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  81 

A  bright  brass  rod  on  the  motor's  bonnet 
Carried  her  husband's  colours  on  it, 
Scarlet  spots  on  a  field  of  cream: 
She  stared  ahead  in  a  kind  of  dream. 

Then  came  cabs  from  the  railway  stations, 
Carrying  men  from  all  the  nations, 
Olive-skinned  French  with  clipped  mous- 
taches, 
Almond-eyed  like  Paris  apaches. 
Rosy  French  with  their  faces  shining 
From  joy  of  living  and  love  of  dining. 
Silent  Spaniards,  merry  Italians, 
Nobles,  commoners,  saints,  rapscallions; 
Russians  tense  with  the  quest  of  truth 
That    maddens    manhood    and    saddens 

youth; 
Learned  Norwegians  hale  and  limber. 
Brown   from   the   barques   new   in   with 

timber. 
Oregon  men  of  six  feet  seven 
With  backs  from  Atlas  and  hearts  from 
Heaven. 


82  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Orleans  Creoles,  ready  for  duels, 
Their  delicate  ears  with  scarlet  jewels, 
Green    silk    handkerchiefs    round    their 

throats, 
In  from  sea  with  the  cotton  boats. 
Portuguese  and  Brazilianos, 
Men  from  the  mountains,  men  from  the 

Llanos, 
Men   from   the   Pampas,   men   from   the 

Sierras, 
Men  from  the  mines  of  the  Cordilleras, 
Men  from  the  flats  of  the  tropic  mud 
Where  the  butterfly  glints  his  mail  with 

blood; 
Men  from  the  pass  where  day  by  day 
The  sun's  heat  scales  the  rocks  away; 
Men  from  the  hills  where  night  by  night 
The  sheep-bells  give  the  heart  delight; 
Indians,  Lascars  and  Bengalese. 
Greeks  from  the  mainland,  Greeks  from  the 

seas; 
All  kinds  of  bodies,  all  kinds  of  faces. 


RIGHT  ROYAL  88 

All  were  coming  to  see  the  races, 

Coming  to  see  Sir  Lopez  run 

And  watch  the  English  having  their  fun. 

The  Carib  boxer  from  Hispaniola 
Wore  a  rose  in  his  tilted  bowler; 
He  drove  a  car  with  a  yellow  panel, 
He  went  full  speed  and  he  drove  a  channeL 

Then  came  dog-carts  and  traps  and  wagons 
With  hampers  of  lunches,  pies  and  flagons, 
Bucks  from  city  and  flash  young  bloods 
With   vests   **cut   saucy''  to  show   their 

studs, 
Hawbuck  Towler  and  Spicey  Random 
Tooled  in  style  in  a  rakish  tandem. 
Blood  Dick  Haggit  and  Bertie  Askins 
Had  dancers'  skirts  on  their  horses'  gas- 
kins; 
Crash  Pete   Snounce   with   that   girl  of 

Dowser's 
Drove  a  horse  that  was  wearing  trousers; 


34  RIGHT   ROYAL 

The  waggonette  from  The  Old  Pier  Head 
Drove  to  the  tune  **My  Monkey's  Dead.'' 


The  costermongers  as  smart  as  sparrows 
Brought    their    wives    in    their    donkey 

barrows. 
The  clean-legged  donkeys,  clever  and  cun- 
ning, 
Their  ears  cocked  forward,  their  neat  feet 

running, 
Their  carts  and  harness  flapping  with  flags, 
Were  bright  as  heralds  and  proud  as  stags. 
And  there  in  pride  in  the  flapping  banners 
Were  the  costers'  selves  in  blue  bandannas, 
And  the  costers'  wives  in  feathers  curling, 
And  their  sons,  with  their  sweet  mouth- 
organs  skirling. 

And  from  midst  of  the  road  to  the  roadside 
shifting 

The  crowd  of  the  world  on  foot  went  drift- 
ing, 


RIGHT  ROYAL  85 

Standing  aside  on  the  trodden  grass 
To  chaff  as  they  let  the  traffic  pass. 
Then  back  they  flooded,  singing  and  cheer- 
ing, 
Plodding  forward  and  disappearing, 
Up  to  the  course  to  take  their  places, 
To  lunch  and  gamble  and  see  the  races. 

The  great  grand  stand,  made  grey  by  the 

weather. 
Flaunted  colours  that  tugged  their  tether; 
Tier  upon  tier  the  wooden  seats 
Were  packed  as  full  as  the  London  streets 
When  the  King  and  Queen  go  by  in  state. 

Click  click  clack  went  the  turnstile  gate; 
The  orange-sellers  cried  '*Fat  and  fine 
Seville"  oranges,  sweet,  like  wine: 
Twopence  apiece,  all  juice,  all  juice.'' 
The  pea  and  the  thimble  caught  their  goose. 

Two  white-faced  lurchers,  not  over-clean, 


36  BIGHT  ROYAL 

Urged  the  passers  to  '*spot  the  Queen." 
They  flicked  three  cards  that  the  world 

might  choose, 
They  cried  **A11  prizes.    You  cannot  lose. 
Come,  pick  the  lady.    Only  a  shilling." 
One  of  their  friends  cried  out,  **I'm  will- 
ing." 
He  ** picked  the  lady"  and  took  his  pay. 
And  he  cried,  *'It's  giving  money  away." 

Men  came  yelling  '* Cards  of  the  races"; 
Men  hawked  matches  and  studs  and  laces; 
Gipsy-women  in  green  shawls  dizened 
Read  girls'  fortunes  with  eyes  that  glis- 
tened; 
Negro  minstrels  on  banjos  strumming 
Sang  at  the  stiles  to  people  coming. 

Like  glistening  beetles  clustered  close, 

The  myriad  motors  parked  in  rows, 

The  bonnets  flashed,  and  the  brass  did 

clink. 
As  the  drivers  poured  their  motors  drink. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  87 

The  March  wind  blew  the  smell  hi  the 

crowd, 
All  men  there  seemed  crying  aloud, 
But  over  the  noise  a  louder  roar 
Broke,  as  the  wave  that  bursts  on  shore, 
Drowns  the  roar  of  the  wave  that  comes. 
So  this  roar  rose  on  the  lesser  hums, 
*^I  back  the  field.    I  back  the  field/' 


Man  who  lives  under  sentence  sealed. 
Tragical  man,  who  has  but  breath 
For  few  brief  years  as  he  goes  to  death. 
Tragical  man  by  strange  winds  blown 
To  live  in  crowds  ere  he  die  alone. 
Came  in  his  jovial  thousands  massing. 
To  see  Life  moving  and  Beauty  passing. 

They  sucked  their  fruit  in  the  wooden  tiers 
And  flung  the  skins  at  the  passers'  ears; 
Drumming  their  heels  on  the  planks  below, 
They  sang  of  Dolly  of  Idaho. 
Past,  like  a  flash,  the  first  race  went. 


38  RIGHT   ROYAL 

The  time  drew  by  to  the  great  event. 

At  a  quarter  to  three  the  big  bell  pealed; 
The  horses  trooped  to  the  Saddling  Field. 
Covered  in  clothing,  horse  and  mare 
Pricked  their  ears  at  the  people  there; 
Some  showed  devil,  and  some,  composure, 
As  they  trod  their  way  to  the  great  en- 
closure. 

When  the  clock  struck  three  and  the  men 

weighed  out, 
Charles  Cothill  shook,  though  his  heart 

was  stout. 
The  thought  of  his  bets,  so  gaily  laid. 
Seemed  a  stone  the  more  when  he  sat  and 

weighed. 

As  he  swung  in  the  scales  and  nursed  his 

saddle, 
It  seemed  to  him  that  his  brains  would 

addle; 
For  now  that  the  plunger  reached  the  brink, 


niGHT    R07AL  39 

The  risk  was  more  than  he  liked  to  think. 

In  ten  more  minutes  his  future  life, 
His  hopes  of  home  with  his  chosen  wife, 
Would  all  depend  on  a  doubtful  horse 
In  a  crowded  field  over  Compton  Course. 

He  had  backed  Right  Royal  for  all  he 

owned. 
At  thought  of  his  want  of  sense  he  groaned. 
*^A11  for  a  dream  of  the  night,"  he  thought. 
He  was  right  for  weight  at  eleven  naught. 

Then  Em's  sweet  face  rose  up  in  his  brain, 
He  cursed  his  will  that  had  dealt  her  pain: 
To  hurt  sweet  Emmy  and  lose  her  love 
Was  madman's  folly  by  all  above. 
He  saw  too  well  as  he  crossed  the  yard 
That  his  madman's  plunge  had  borne  her 

hard. 
**To  wring  sweet  Em  like  her  drunken 

father, 

I'd  fall  at  the  Pitch  and  end  it  rather. 


40  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Oh  I  hope,  hope,  hope,  that  her  golden 

heart 
Will  give  me  a  word  before  I  start. 
If  I  thought  our  love  should  have  come  to 

wreck, 
I'd  pull  Right  Royal  and  break  my  neck, 
And  Monkery's  shoe  might  kick  my  brains 

out 
That  my  own  heart's  blood  might  wash 

my  stains  out. 

But  even  if  Emmy,  my  sweet,  forgive, 
I'm  a  ruined  man,  so  I  need  not  live. 
For  I've  backed  my  horse  with  my  all,  by 

Heaven, 
To  be  first  in  a  field  of  thirty-seven. 
And  good  as  he  is,  the  dream's  a  lie." 

He  saw  no  hope,  but  to  fall  and  die. 

As  he  left  the  room  for  the  Saddling  Pad- 
dock 
He  looked  as  white  as  the  flesh  of  haddock. 
But  Love,  all  seeing,  though  painted  blind, 


RIGHT   ROYAL  41 

Makes  wisdom  live  in  a  woman's  mind: 

His  love  knew  well  from  her  own  heart's 
bleeding 

The  word  of  help  that  her  man  was  need- 
ing; 

And  there  she  stood  with  her  eyes  most 

bright, 
Ready  to  cheer  her  heart's  delight. 

She  said,  **My  darling,  I  feel  so  proud 
To  see  you  followed  by  all  the  crowd; 
And  I  shall  be  proud  as  I  see  you  win. 

Right  Royal,  Soyland  and  Peterkin 
Are  the  three  I  pick,  first,  second,  third. 
And  oh,  now  listen  to  what  I  heard. 
Just  now  in  the  park  Sir  Norman  Cooking 
Said,  *  Harding,  how  well  Right  Royal's 

looking. 
They've  brought  him  on  in  the  ring,  they 

say.' 
John  said,  *Sir  Norman,  to-day's  his  day.' 
And  Sir  Norman  said,  *If  I  had  a  monkey 
I'd  put  it  on  yours,  for  he  looks  so  spunky.' 


42  RIGHT   ROYAL 

So  you  see  that  the  experts  think  as  you. 
Now,  my  own  own  own,  may  your  dream 

come  true, 
As  I  know  it  will,  as  I  know  it  must; 
You  have  all  my  prayer  and  my  love  and 

trust. 

Oh,  one  thing  more  that  Sir  Norman  said, 
*A  lot  of  money  has  just  been  laid 
On  the  mare  Gavotte  that  no  one  knows.' 
He  said  *  She's  small,  but,  my  word,  she 

goes. 
Since   she  bears  no  weight,  if  she   only 

jumps. 
She'll  put  these  cracks  to  their  ace   of 

trumps. 
But,'  he  said,  'she's  slight  for  a  course 

like  this.' 

That's  all  my  gossip,  so  there  it  is. 

Dear,  reckon  the  words  I  spoke  unspoken, 
I  failed  in  love  and  my  heart  is  broken. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  43 

Now  I  go  to  my  place  to  blush  with  pride 
As  the  people  talk  of  how  well  you  ride; 
I  mean  to  shout  like  a  bosun's  mate 
When  I  see  you  lead  coming  up  the  straight. 
Now  may  all  God 's  help  be  with  you,  dear. ' ' 

**Well,  bless  you,  Em,  for  your  words  of 

cheer. 
And  now  is  the  woodcock  near  the  gin. 
Good-bye. 

Now,  Harding,  we'd  best  begin." 

At  buckle  and  billet  their  fingers  wrought, 
Till  the  sheets  were  home  and  the  bowlines 

taut. 
As  he  knotted  the  reins  and  took  his  stand 
The  horse's  soul  came  into  his  hand 
And  up  from  the  mouth  that  held  the  steel 
Came  an  innermost  word,  half  thought, 

half  feel, 
'*My  day  to-day,  0  master,  O  master; 
None  shall  jump  cleaner,  none  shall  go 

faster. 


44  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Call  till  you  kill  me,  for  I'll  obey, 

It's  my  day  to-day,  it's  my  day  to-day." 

In  a  second  more  he  had  found  his  seat, 
And  the  standers-by  jumped  clear  of  feet. 
For  the  big  dark  bay  all  fire  and  fettle 
Had  his  blood  in  a  dance  to  show  his  mettle. 
Charles  soothed  him  down  till  his  tricks 

were  gone; 
Then  he  leaned  for  a  final  word  from  John. 

John  Harding's  face  was  alert  and  grim. 
From  under  his  hand  he  talked  to  him. 
**It's  none  of  my  business,  sir,"  he  said, 
**What  you  stand  to  win  or  the  bets  you've 

made, 
But  the  rumour  goes  that  you've  backed 

your  horse. 

Now   you   need    no   telling    of   Compton 
Course. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  45 

It's  a  dangerous  course  at  the  best  of 

times, 
But  on  days  like  this  some  jumps  are 

crimes; 
With  a  field  like  this,  nigh  forty  starting. 
After  one  time  round  it'll  need  re-charting. 

Now  think  it  a  hunt,  the  first  time  round; 
Don't  think  too  much  about  losing  ground, 
Lie  out  of  your  ground,  for  sure  as  trumps 
There'll  be  people  killed  in  the  first  three 

jumps. 
The  second  time  round,  pipe  hands  for 

boarding, 
You  can  see  what's  doing  and  act  accord- 
ing. 

Now  your  horse  is  a  slug  and  a  sulker  too. 
Your  way  with  the  horse  I  leave  to  you; 
But,  sir,  you  watch  for  these  joker's  tricks 
And  watch  that  devil  on  number  six; 


46  RIGHT   ROYAL 

There's  nothing  he  likes  like  playing  it 

low, 
What  a  horse  mayn't  like  or  a  man  mayn't 

know, 
And  what  they  love  when  they  race  a  toff 
Is  to  flurry  his  horse  at  taking  off. 
The  ways  of  the  crook  are  hard  to  learn. 

Now  watch  that  fence  at  the  outer  turn; 
It  looks  so  slight  but  it's  highly  like 
That  it's  killed  more  men  than  the  Dyers' 

Dyke. 
It's  down  in  a  dip  and  you  turn  to  take  it. 
And  men  in  a  bunch,  just  there,  mistake  it. 
But  well  to  the  right,  it's  firmer  ground, 
And  the  quick  way  there  is  the  long  way 

round. 
In  Cannibal's  year,  in  just  this  weather, 
There  were  five  came  down  at  that  fence 

together. 
I  called  it  murder,  not  riding  races. 


RIGHT  ROYAL  47 

You've  nothing  to  fear  from  the   other 

places, 
Your  horse  can  jump. 

Now  I'll  say  no  more. 
They  say  you're  on,  as  I  said  before. 
It's  none  of  my  business,  sir,  but  still 
I  would  like  to  say  that  I  hope  you  will. 
Sir,  I  wish  you  luck.    When  we  two  next 

meet 
I  hope  to  hear  how  you  had  them  beat." 

Charles  Cothill  nodded  with,  **  Thank  you, 

John. 
We'll  try;  and,  oh,  you're  a  thousand  on." 

He  heard  John's  thanks,  but  knew  at  a 

glance 
That  John  was   sure  that   he   stood  no 

chance. 

He  turned  Eight  Royal,  he   drew  deep 
breath 


48  RIGET   ROYAL 

With  the  thought  **Now  for  it;  a  ride  to 

death/' 
**Now  come,  my  beauty,  for  dear  Em's 

sake, 
And  if  come  you  can't,  may  our  necks  both 

break." 

And  there  to  his  front,  with  their  riders 
stooping 

For  the  final  word,  were  the  racers  troop- 
ing. 

Out  at  the  gate  to  cheers  and  banter 
They  paced  in  pride  to  begin  their  canter. 

Muscatel  with  the  big  white  star. 
The  roan  Red  Ember,  and  Kubbadar, 

Kubbadar  with  his  teeth  bared  yellow 
At  the  Dakkanese,  his  stable-fellow. 
Then  Forward-Ho,  then  a  chestnut  weed, 
Skysail,  slight,  with  a  turn  of  speed. 
The  neat  Gavotte  under  black  and  coral, 


RIGHT  ROYAL  49 

Then    the    Mutineer,    Lord    Leybourne's 

sorrel, 
Natuna  mincing,  Syringa  sidling, 
Stormalong  fighting  to  break  his  bridling. 
Thunderbolt    dancing    with    raw    nerves 

quick. 
Trying  a  savage  at  Bitter  Dick. 
The  Ranger  (winner  three  years  before). 
Now  old,  but  ready  for  one  try  more; 
Hadrian;  Thankful;  the  stable-cronies, 
Peterkinooks  and  Dear  Adonis; 
The  flashing  Rocket,  with  taking  action; 
Exception,     backed    by    the     Tencombe 

faction; 
Old  Sir  Francis  and  young  King  Tony, 
Culverin  striding  from  great  hips  bony. 

At  this,  he  rode  through  the  open  gate 
Into  the  course  to  try  his  fate. 

He  heard  a  roar  from  a  moving  crowd; 
Right  Royal  kindled  and  cried  aloud. 
There  was  the  course,  stand,  rail  and  pen, 


50  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Peopled  with  seventy  thousand  men; 
Seventy  thousand  faces  staring, 
Carriages  parked,  a  brass  band  blaring: 
Over  the  stand  the  flags  in  billows 
Bent  their  poles  like  the  wands  of  willows. 
All  men  there  seemed  trying  to  bawl, 
Yet  a  few  great  voices  topped  them  all: 
*'I  back  the  field!    I  back  the  field!" 

Eight    Royal    trembled    with    pride    and 
squealed. 

Charles  Cothill  smiled  with  relief  to  find 
This  roaring  crowd  to  his  horse's  mind. 

He  passed  the  stand  where  his  lady  stood, 
His  nerves  were  tense  to  the  multitude; 
His  blood  beat  hard  and  his  eyes  grew  dim 
As  he  knew  that  some  were  cheering  him. 
Then,  as  he  turned,  at  his  pace's  end 
There  came  a  roar  as  when  floods  descend. 
All  down  the  straight  from  the  crowded 
stands 


RIGHT   ROYAL  61 

Came   the   yells   of  voices   and  clap   of 

hands, 
For  with  bright  bay  beauty  that  shone  like 

flame 
The  favourite  horse  Sir  Lopez  came. 

His  beautiful  hips  and  splendid  shoulders 
And  power  of  stride  moved  all  beholders, 
Moved  non-bettors  to  try  to  bet 
On  that  favourite  horse  not  beaten  yet. 
With  glory  of  power  and  speed  he  strode 
To  a   sea  of  cheering  that  moved  and 

flowed 
And  followed  and  heaped  and  burst  like 

storm 
From  the  joy  of  men  in  the  perfect  form; 
Cheers  followed  his  path  both  sides  the 

course. 

Charles  Cothill  sighed  when  he  saw  that 
horse. 

The  cheering  died,  then  a  burst  of  clapping 


62  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Met   Soyland's    coming    all    bright    from 

strapping, 
A  big  dark  brown  who  was  booted  thick 
Lest  one  of  the  jumps  should  make  him 

click. 
He  moved  very  big,  he'd  a  head  like  a 

fiddle, 
He  seemed  all  ends  without  any  middle, 
But  ill  as  he  looked,  that  outcast  racer 
Was  a  rare  good  horse  and  a  perfect  chaser. 
Then  The  Ghost  came  on,  then  Meringue, 

the  bay. 
Then  proud  Grey  Glory,  the  dapple-grey; 
The    splendid   grey   brought    a   burst   of 

cheers. 
Then    Cimmeroon,    who    had    tried    for 

years 
And  had  thrice  been  placed  and  had  once 

been  fourth, 
Came  trying  again  the  proverb's  worth. 

Then  again,  like  a  wave  as  it  runs  a  pier, 
On  and  on,  unbroken,  there  came  a  cheer 


RIGHT  ROYAL  63 

As  Monkery,  black  as  a  collier-barge, 
Trod  sideways,  bickering,  taking  charge. 
Cross-Molin,  from  the  Blowbury,  followed, 
Lucky  Shot  skipped,  Coranto  wallowed, 
Then  Counter  Vair,  the  declared-to-win, 
Stable-fellow  of  Cross-Molin; 
Culverin  last,  with  Cannonade, 
Formed  rearguard  to  the  grand  parade. 

And  now,  as  they  turned  to  go  to  post. 
The  Skysail  calfishly  barged  The  Ghost, 
The  Ghost  lashed  out  with  a  bitter  knock 
On  the  tender  muscle  of  SkysaiPs  hock. 
And  Skysail 's  hope  of  that  splendid  hour 
Was  cut  off  short  like  a  summer  flower. 
From  the  cantering  crowd  he  limped  apart 
Back  to  the  Paddock  and  did  not  start. 

As  they  cantered  down,  Charles  Cothill's 

mind 
Was  filled  with  joy  that  his  horse  went 

kind; 
He  showed  no  sulks,  no  sloth,  no  fear, 


54  RIGHT   ROYAL 

But  leant  on  his  rein  and  pricked  his  ear. 
They  lined  themselves  at  the  Post  to  start, 
Charles  took  his  place  with  a  thumping 
heart. 

Excitement  running  in  waves  took  hold, 
His  teeth  were  chattered,  his  hands  were 

cold, 
His  joy  to  be  there  was  mixed  with  dread 
To  be  left  at  post  when  they  shot  ahead. 
The  horses  sparred  as  though  drunk  with 

wine, 
They  bickered  and  snatched  at  taking  line. 

Then  a  grey-haired  man  with  a  hawklike 

face 
Bead  from  a  list  each  rider's  place. 
Sitting  astride  his  pommely  hack, 
He  ordered  them  up  or  sent  them  back; 
He  bade  them  heed  that  they  jump  their 

nags 
Over  every  jump  between  the  flags. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  65 

Here  Kubbadar,  who  was  pulling  double, 
Went     sideways,     kicking     and     raising 

trouble, 
Monkery  seconded,  kicking  and  biting. 
Thunderbolt  followed  by  starting  fighting. 

The  starter  eyed  them  and  gave  the  order 
That  the  three  wild  horses  keep  the  border, 
With  men  to  hold  them  to  keep  them  quiet. 
Boys  from  the  stables  stopped  their  riot. 
Out  of  the  line  to  the  edge  of  the  field. 
The  three  wild  biters  and  kickers  wheeled; 
Then  the  rest  edged  up  and  pawed  and 

bickered, 
Eeached  at  their  reins  and  snatched  and 

snickered, 
Flung  white  foam  as  they  stamped  their 

hate 
Of  passionate  blood  compelled  to  wait. 

Then  the  starter  shouted  to  Charles,  **6ood 
heaven, 


56  RIGHT   ROYAL 

This  isn't  a  circus,  you  on  Seven." 
For  Eoyal  squirmed  like  a  box  of  tricks 
And  Coranto's  rider,  the  number  Six, 
Cursed  at  Charles  for  a  green  young  fool 
Who  ought  to  be  at  a  riding  school. 

After  a  minute  of  swerves  and  shoving, 
A  line  like  a  half -moon  started  moving, 
Then  Eocket  and  Soyland  leaped  to  stride. 
To  be  pulled  up  short  and  wheeled  to  side. 

Then  the  trickier  riders  started  thrusting. 
Judging  the  starter's  mind  too  trusting; 
But  the  starter  said,  **You  know  quite 

clearly 
That  isn't  allowed;  though  you'd  like  it 

dearly." 

Then  Cannonade  made  a  sideways  bolt 

That  gave  Exception  an  ugly  jolt. 

Then  the  line,  reformed,  broke  all  to  pieces. 


RIGBT   ROYAL  67 

Then  the  line  reforms,  and  the  tumult 

ceases. 
Each  man   sits   tense   tnough  his  racer 

dances ; 
In  a  slow,  jerked  walk  the  line  advances^ 

And  then  in  a  flash,  more  felt  than  seen, 
The  flag  shot  down  and  the  course  showed 

green, 
And  the  line  surged  forwards  and  all  that 

glory 
Of  speed  was  sweeping  to  make  a  story. 

One  second  before,  Charles  CothilPs  mind 
Had  been  filled  with  fear  to  be  left  behind. 
But  now  with  a  rush,  as  when  hounds  leave 

cover. 
The  line  broke  up  and  his  fear  was  over. 
A  glimmer  of  bay  behind  The  Ghost 
Showed  Dear  Adonis  still  there  at  post. 
Out  to  the  left,  a  joy  to  his  backer, 


68  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Kubbadar  led  the  field  a  cracker, 

The  thunder  of  horses,  all  fit  and  foaming, 

Made  the  blood  not  care  whether  death 

were  coming. 
A  glimmer  of  silks,  blue,  white,  green,  red. 
Flashed  into  his  eye  and  went  ahead; 
Then  hoof-casts   scattered,   then  rushing 

horses 
Passed  at  his  side  with  all  their  forces. 
His  blood  leapt  up  but  his  mind  said  ^*No, 
Steady,  my  darling,  slow,  go  slow. 
In  the  first  time  round  this  ride's  a  hunt.'' 

The  Turk's  Grave  Fence  made  a  line  in 
front. 

Long  years  before,  when  the  race  began. 
That  first  of  the  jumps  had  maimed  a  man; 
His  horse,  the  Turk,  had  been  killed  and 

buried 
There  in  the  ditch  by  horse-hoofs  berried; 
And  over  the  poor  Turk's  bones  at  pace 


RIGHT  ROYAL  68 

Now,  every  year,  there  goes  the  race, 
And  many  a  man  makes  doctor's  work 
At  the  thorn-bound  ditch  that  hides  the 

Turk, 
And  every  man  as  he  rides  that  course 
Thinks,  there,  of  the  Turk,  that  good  old 

horse. 

The  thick  thorn-fence  stands  five  feet  high, 
With  a  ditch  beyond  unseen  by  eye. 
Which  a  horse  must  guess  from  his  urgent 

rider 
Pressing  him  there  to  jump  it  wider. 

And  being  so  near  both  Stand  and  Post, 
Out  of  all  the  jumps  men  haunt  it  most, 
And    there,    with    the    crowd,    and    the 

undulled  nerves, 
The  old  horse  balks  and  the  young  horse 

swerves. 
And  the  good  horse  falls  with  the  bad  on 

top 
And  beautiful  boldness  comes  to  stop. 


60  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Charles  saw  the  rush  of  the  leading  black, 
And  the  forehands  lift  and  the  men  sway 

back; 
He  steadied  his  horse,  then  with  crash  and 

crying 
The  top  of  the  Turk's  Grave  Fence  went 

flying. 
Eound  in  a  flash,  refusing  danger, 
Came  the  Lucky  Shot  right  into  Ranger; 
Ranger  swerving  knocked  Bitter  Dick, 
Who  blundered  at  it  and  leaped  too  quick; 
Then    crash   went    blackthorn    as    Bitter 

Dick  feU, 
Meringue  jumped  on  him  and  rolled  as 

well. 
As  Charles  got  over  he  splashed  the  dirt 
Of  the  poor  Turk's  grave  on  two  men  hurt. 

Right  Royal  landed.     With  cheers   and 

laughter 
Some  horses  passed  him  and  some  came 
'  after; 


BIGHT  ROYAL  61 

A  fine  brown  horse  strode  up  beside  him, 
It  was  Thankful  running  with  none  to  ride 

him; 
ThankfuPs  rider,  dizzy  and  sick, 
Lay  in  the  mud  by  Bitter  Dick, 

In  front,  was  the  curving  street  of  Course, 
Barred  black  by  the  leaps  unsmashed  by 

horse. 
A  cloud  blew  by  and  the  sun  shone  bright, 
Showing  the  guard-rails  gleaming  white. 
Little  red  flags,  that  gusts  blew  tense. 
Streamed  to  the  wind  at  each  black  fence. 

And  smiting  the  turf  to  clods  that  scattered 
Was  the  rush  of  the  race,  the  thing  that 

mattered, 
A  tide  of  horses  in  fury  flowing, 
Beauty  of  speed  in  glory  going, 
Kubbadar  pulling,  romping  first. 
Like  a  big  black  fox  that  had  made  his 

burst. 


62  RIGHT   ROYAL 

And  away  and  away  and  away  they  went, 
A  visible  song  of  what  life  meant. 
Living  in  houses,  sleeping  in  bed, 
^  Going  to  business,  all  seemed  dead, 
Dead  as  death  to  that  rush  in  strife 
Pulse  for  pulse  with  the  heart  of  life. 

**For  to  all,''  Charles  thought,  *^when  the 
blood  beats  high 

Comes  the  glimpse  of  that  which  may  not 
die; 

When  the  world  is  stilled,  when  the  want- 
ing dwindles. 

When  the  mind  takes  light  and  the  spirit 
kindles. 

One  stands  on  a  peak  of  this  old  earth." 

Charles   eyed  his  horses  and  sang  with 

mirth. 
What   of  this  world  that  spins  through 

space 1 


RIGHT  ROYAL  63 

With  red  blood  running  lie  rode  a  race, 
The  beast's  red  spirit  was  one  with  his, 
Emulous  and  in  ecstasies; 
Joy  that  from  heart  to  wild  heart  passes 
In   the   wild   things    going   through   the 
grasses; 

In  the  hares  in  the  com,  in  shy  gazelles 
Running  the  sand  where  no  man  dwells; 
In  horses  scared  at  the  prairie  spring; 
In  the  dun  deer  noiseless,  hurrying; 
In  fish  in  the  dimness  scarcely  seen, 
Save  as  shadows  shooting  in  a  shaking 

green; 
In  birds  in  the  air,  neck-straining,  swift, 
Wing  touching  wing  while  no  wings  shift. 
Seen  by  none,  but  when  stars  appear 
A  reaper  wandering  home  may  hear 
A  sigh  aloft  where  the  stars  are  dim, 
Then  a  great  rush  going  over  him: 
This  was  his;  it  had  linked  him  close 


64  RIGHT   ROYAL 

To  the  force  by  which  the  comet  goes, 
With  the  rein  none  sees,  with  the  lash  none 

feels, 
But  with  fire-mane  tossing  and  flashing 

heels. 

The  roar  of  the  race-course  died  behind 

them. 
In  front  were  their  Fates,  they  rode  to 

find  them, 
With  the  wills  of  men,  with  the  strengths 

of  horses, 
They  dared  the  minute  with  all  their  forces. 


PART    II 


still  pulling  double,  black  Kubbadar  led, 
Pulling  his  rider  half  over  his  head; 
Soyland's  cream  jacket  was  spotted  with 

red, 
Spotted  with  dirt  from  the  rush  of  their 

tread. 

Bright  bay  Sir  Lopez,  the  loveliest  there, 
Galloped  at  ease  as  though  taking  the  air. 
Well  in  his  compass  with  plenty  to  spare. 
Gavotte  and  The  Ghost  and  the  brown 

Counter  Vair, 
Followed  him  close  with  Syringa  the  mare. 
And  the  roan  horse  Bed  Ember  who  went 

like  a  hare, 
And  Forward-Ho  bolting,  though  his  rider 

did  swear. 

Keeping  this  order,  they  reached  the  next 

fence. 
Which  was  living  plashed  blackthorn  with 

gorse-toppings  dense; 

67 


68  RIGHT  ROYAL 

In  the  gloom  of  its  darkness  it  loomed  up 

immense. 
And  Forward-Ho's  glory  had  conquered 

his  sense 
And  he  rushed  it,  not  rising,  and  never 

went  thence. 

And  down  in  the  ditch  where  the  gorse- 
spikes  were  scattered, 

That  bright  chestnut's  soul  from  his  body- 
was  shattered, 

And  his  rider  shed  tears  on  the  dear  head 
all  spattered. 

King  Tony  came  down,  but  got  up  with  a 

stumble. 
His  rider  went  sideways,  but  knew  how  to 

tumble. 
And  got  up  and  remounted,  though  the 

pain  made  him  humble. 
And  he  rode  fifty  yards  and  then  stopped 

in  a  fumble. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  69 

With  a  rush  and  a  crashing  Right  Royal 

went  over 
With  the  stride  of  a  stalwart  and  the  blood 

of  a  lover, 
He  landed  on  stubble  now  pushing  with 

clover. 

And  just  as  he  landed,  the  March  sun  shone 

bright 
And  the  blue  sky  showed  flamelike  and  the 

dun  clouds  turned  white; 
The  little  larks  panted  aloft  their  delight, 
Trembling  and  singing  as  though  one  with 

the  light. 

And  Charles,  as  he  rode,  felt  the  joy  of 

their  singing. 
While  over  the   clover  the  horses  went 

stringing. 
And  up  from  Right  Royal  the  message 

came  winging, 
**It  is  my  day  to-day,  though  the  pace  may 

be  stinging, 


70  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Though  the  jumps  be  all  danger  and  the 

going  all  clinging." 
The  white,  square  church-tower  with  its 

weather-cocks  swinging, 
Rose  up  on  the  right  above  grass  and  dark 

plough 
"Where  the  elm  trees'  black  branches  had 

bud  on  the  bough. 

Riderless  Thankful  strode  on  at  his  side. 
His  bright  stirrup-irons  flew  up  at  each 

stride, 
Being  free,  in  this  gallop,  had  filled  him 

with  pride. 
Charles  thought,  **What  would  come,  if 

he  ran  out  or  shied? 
I  wish  from  my  heart  that  the  brute  would 

keep  wide.'* 
Coranto  drew  up  on  Right  RoyaPs  near 

quarter, 
Beyond  lay  a  hurdle  and  ditch  full  of 

water. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  71 

And  now  as  they  neared  it,  Right  Royal 

took  heed 
Of  the  distance  to  go  and  the  steps  he 

would  need; 
He  cocked  to  the  effort  with  eyes  bright 

as  gleed, 
Then  Coranto's  wide  wallow  shot  past  him 

at  speed: 
His  rider's  *^Hup,  hup,  now!''  called  out 

quick  and  cheerly, 
Sent  him  over  in  style,  but  Right  Royal 

jumped  early. 


Just  a  second  too  soon,  and  from  some  feet 

too  far, 
Charles  learned  the  mistake  as  he  struck 

the  top  bar; 
Then  the  water  flashed  skywards,  the  earth 

gave  a  jar. 
And  the  man  on  Coranto  looked  back  with 

*'AhaI 


72  RIGHT   ROYAL 

That'll  teach  you,  my  son.''     Then  with 

straining  of  leather, 
Grey  Glory  and  Monkery  landed  together. 

For  a  second  the  stunning  kept  Charles 
from  his  pain. 

Then  his  sense  flooded  back,  making  every- 
thing plain. 

He  was  down  on  the  mud,  but  he  still  held 
the  rein; 

Right  Royal  was  heaving  his  haunch  from 
the  drain. 

The  field  was  ahead  of  him,  going  like  rain. 

And  though  the  plough  held  them,  they 
went  like  the  wind 

To  the  eyes  of  a  man  left  so  badly  behind. 

Charles  climbed  to  his  feet  as  Right  Royal 

crawled  out. 
He  said,  ** That's  extinction  beyond  any 

•doubt." 
On  the  plough,  on  and  on,  went  the  rush  of 

the  rout. 


RIGHT  ROYAL  73 

Charles  mounted  and  rode,  for  his  courage 

was  stout, 
And  he  would  not  give  in  till  the  end  of  the 

bout. 
But  plastered  with  poachings  he  rode  on 

forsaken:  '^ 

He  had  lost  thirty  lengths  and  his  horse 

had  been  shaken. 


Across  the  wet  ploughland  he  took  a  good 
pull, 

With  the  thought  that  the  cup  of  his  sor- 
row was  full. 

For  the  speed  of  a  stag  and  the  strength 
of  a  bull 

Could  hardly  recover  the  ground  he  had 
lost. 

Right  Royal  went  dully,  then  snorted  and 
tost, 

Tost  his  head,  with  a  whicker,  went  on, 
and  went  kind, 


74  RIGHT    ROYAL 

And    the    horse's    great    spirit    touched 

Charles  in  the  mind. 
Though  his  bruise  made  him  dizzy   and 

tears  made  him  blind, 
He  would  try  to  the  finish,  and  so  they 

should  find. 
He  was  last,  thirty  lengths.    Here  he  took 

in  his  sails, 
For  the  field  had  come  crash  at  the  white 

post  and  rails. 

Here  Sir  Francis  ran  out,  scaring  all  who 
stood  near. 

Going  crash  through  the  rail  like  a  runa- 
way deer. 

Then  the  riderless  Thankful  upset  Muti- 
neer, 

Dakkanese,  in  refusing,  wheeled  round  like 
a  top 

Into  Culverin's  shoulder  which  made  them 
both  stop. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  76 

They  reeled  from  the  shock,  slithered  side- 
ways, and  crashed, 

Dakkanese  on  the  guard-rail  which  gave, 
and  then  smashed. 

As  he  rolled,  the  near  shoes  of  the  Culverin 
flashed 

High  in  air  for  a  moment,  bright  iron  in 
strain: 

Then  he  rose  with  no  rider  and  tripped  in 
his  rein. 

Right  Royal  came  up  as  the  Dakkanese 

rose 
All  trembling  and  cowed  as  though  beaten 

with  blows; 
The  Culverin  stumbled  with  the  reins  in 

his  toes; 
On  the  far  side  the  leap  stood  the  Mutineer 

grazing. 
His  man  was  a  heap  which  some  fellows 

were  raising. 


76  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Eight  Eoyal  strode  on,  through  a  second 

wet  plough, 
With  the  field  far  ahead    (Kubbadar  in 

the  bow). 
Charles  thought,  **  Kubbadar 's  got  away 

from  him  now. 
Well,  it's  little  to  me,  for  they're  so  far 

ahead 
That  they'll  never  come  back,  though  I 

ride  myself  dead." 


Right  Royal  bored  forward  and  leaned  on 

his  hand, 
**Good  boy,"  said  his  master.    **He  must 

understand. 
You're  the  one  friend  I'll  have  when  I've 

sold  all  my  land. 
God  pity  my  Em  as  we  come  past  the  Stand, 
Last  of  all,  and  all  muddy;  but  now  for 

Jim's  Pitch." 
Four  feet  of  gorse  fence,  then  a  fifteen  foot 

ditch. 


BIGHT  ROYAL  77 

And  the  fifteen  foot  ditch  glittered  bright 

to  the  brim 
With  the  brook  that  ran  through  it  where 

the  grayling  did  swim; 
In  the  shallows  it  sparkled,  in  the  deeps  it 

was  dim, 
When  the  race  was  first  run  it  had  nearly 

drowned  Jim, 
And  now  the  bright  irons  of  twenty-four 

horses 
Were  to  flicker  its  ripples  with  knockings 

of  gorses. 

From  far  in  the  rear  Charles  could  watch 

them  take  hold 
Of  their  horses  and  push  them  across  the 

light  mould; 
How  their  ears  all  cocked  forward,  how 

the  drumming  hoofs  rolled! 
Kubbadar,  far  ahead,  flew  across  like  a 

bird, 
Then  Soyland,  bad  second,  with  Muscatel 

third. 


78  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Then  Sir  Lopez,  and  Path  Finder,  striding 
alone. 

Then  the  good  horse,  Eed  Ember,  the  flea- 
bitten  roan. 

Then  the  little  Gavotte  bearing  less  than 
ten  stone. 

Then  a  crowd  of  all  colours  with  Peter- 
kinooks 

Going  strong  as  a  whale  goes,  head  up  and 
out  flukes. 

And  then  as  Charles  watched,  as  the  shoul- 
ders went  back, 

The  riderless  Thankful  swerved  left  off  the 
track, 

Crossing  just  to  the  front  of  the  Cimmeroon 
black. 

Ere  the  rider  could  see  what  his  horse  was 
about, 

Cimmeroon  swerved,  like  Thankful,  and 
followed  him  out. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  79 

Across  the  great  grass  in  the  midst  of  the 
course 

Cimmeroon  ran  a  match  race  with  the  rid- 
erless horse, 

Then  the  rider  took  charge,  part  by  skill 
part  by  force; 

He  turned  Cimmeroon  to  re-enter  the  race 

Seven  lengths  behind  Charles  in  the  post 
of  disgrace. 

Beyond  the  next  fence,  at  the  top  of  a  slope, 
Charles  saw  his  field  fading  and  gave  up 

all  hope. 
Yet  he  said,  '*Any  error  will  knot  me  my 

rope. 
I  wish  that  some  power  would  help  me  to 

see 
What  would  give  the  best  chance  for  Right 

Royal  and  me. 

Shall  I  hurry  downhill,  to  catch  up  when 
I  can? 


80  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Being  last  is  the  devil  for  horse  and  for 

man, 
For  it  makes  the  horse  slack  and  it  makes 

the  man  sick. 
Well,  I've  got  to  decide  and  I've  got  to  be 

quick. 

I  had  better  catch  up,  for  if  I  should  be 

last, 
It  would  kill  my  poor  Emmy  to  see  me 

come  past. 
I  cannot  leave  Emmy  to  suffer  like  that. 
So  I'll  hurry  downhill  and  then  pull  on 

the  flat." 

So  he  thought,  so  he  settled,  but  then,  as 

he  stirred, 
Right  Royal's  ears  moved  like  a  vicious 

man's  word; 
So  he  thought,  *'If  I  try  it,  the  horse  will 

refuse." 
So  he  gave  up  the  project  and  shook  in  his 

shoes. 


RIOHf   ROYAL  81 

Then  he  thought,  '*  Since  the  horse  will  not 
stand  interference, 

I  must  even  sit  quiet  and  sink  the  appear- 
ance. 

Since  his  nerves  have  been  touched,  it's  as 
well  we're  alone." 

He  turned  down  the  hill  with  his  heart  like 
a  stone. 

'*But,''  he  cried,  **  they  11  come  back,  for 

they've  gone  such  a  burst 
That  they'll  all  soon  be  panting,  in  need 

to  be  nursed. 
They  will  surely  come  back,  but  to  wait 

till  they  do, 
Lord,  it's  hell  to  the  waiter,  it  cuts  a  man 

through.'' 

Then  into  his  mind  came  the  Avalon  case, 
When  a  man,  left  at  post,  without  hope  of 

a  place, 
First  had  suffered  in  patience,  then  had 

wormed  his  way  up. 


82  BIGHT   ROYAL 

Then  had  come  with  fine  judgment,  and 
just  won  the  Cup. 

Hoofs    thundered   behind   him,    the    Cim- 

meroon  caught  him, 
His  man  cursing  Thankful  and  the  sire 

who  wrought  him. 
**Did  you  see  that  brown  devil?''  he  cried 

as  he  passed; 
*'He  carried  me  out,  but  I'll  never  be  last. 

Just  the  wrong  side  the  water  the  brute 

gave  a  swerve. 
And  he  carried  me  out,  half  across  the 

course-curve. 
Look,  he's  cut  right  across  now,  we'll  meet 

him  again. 
Well,  I  hope  someone  knocks  him  and  kicks 

out  his  brain. 

Well,  I'll  never  be  last,  though  I  can't  win 
the  Cup. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  83 

No  sense  lolling  here,  man,  you'd  better 

pull  up.'' 
Then  he  roused  Cimmeroon,  and  was  off 

like  a  swallow. 


Charles  watched,  sick  at  heart,  with  a  long- 
ing to  follow. 

** Better    follow,"    he    thought,    **for   he 

knows  more  than  I, 
Since  he  rode  here  before,  and  it's  wiser 

to  try: 
Would  my  horse  had  but  wings,  would  his 

feet  would  but  lift; 
Would  we  spun  on  this  speedway  as  wind 

spins  the  drift. 

There  they  go  out  of  sight,  over  fence,  to 

the  Turn; 
They  are  going  still  harder,  they  leave  me 

astern. 


84  RIGHT   ROYAL 

They  will  never  come  back,  I  am  lost  past 

recall. ' ' 
So  he  cried  for  a  comfort  and  only  gat  gall. 

In  the  glittering  branches  of  the  world 

without  end, 
Were  the  spirits,  Em's  Helper  and  Charles 

CothilPs  Friend, 
And  the  Force  of  Right  Royal  with  a  crinier 

of  flame 
There  they  breathed  the  bright  glory  till 

the  summoning  came. 

From  the  Stand  where  Em  watched,  from 
the  field  where  Charles  rode, 

From  the  mud  where  Right  Royal  in  soli- 
tude strode, 

Came  the  call  of  three  spirits  to  the  spirits 
that  guard, 

Crying,  **Up  now,  and  help  him,  for  the 
danger  bears  hard." 


RIOHT   ROYAL  86 

There  they  looked,  those  immortals,  from 

the  boughs  dropping  balm, 
But  their  powers   were   stirred  not,  and 

their  grave  brows  were  calm, 
For  they  said,  **He's  despairing  and  the 

horse  is  still  vext. ' ' 
Charles  cleared  Channing's  Blackthorn  and 

strode  to  the  next. 

The  next  was  the  Turn  in  a  bogland  of 
rushes; 

There  the  springs  of  still  water  were 
trampled  to  slushes; 

The  peewits  lamented,  flapping  down,  flag- 
ging far, 

The  riders  dared  deathwards  each  trusting 
his  star. 

The  mud  made  them  slither,  the  turn  made 

them  close, 
The  stirrup  steels  clinked  as  they  thrust 

in  their  toes, 


86  RIGHT   ROYAL 

The  brown  horse  Exception  was  struck  as 

he  rose, 
Struck  to  earth  by  the  Rocket,  then  kicked 

by  the  grey, 
Then  Thunderbolt  smote  him  and  rolled 

him  astray. 

The  man  on  Exception,  Bun  Manor,  fell 

clear 
With  Monkery's  shoes  half  an  inch  from 

his  ear, 
A  drench  of  wet  mud  from  the  hoofs  struck 

his  cheek, 
But  the  race  was  gone  from  him  before  he 

could  speak. 


There  Exception  and  Thunderbolt  ended 

their  race. 
Their  bright  flanks  all  smeared  with  the 

mud  of  the  place; 
In  the  green  fields  of  Tencombe  and  the 

grey  downs  of  Churn 


RIGHT   ROYAL  87 

Their  names  had  been  glories  till  they  fell 
at  the  Turn. 

Em  prayed  in  her  place  that  her  lover  might 
know 

Not  to  hurry  Right  Royal  but  let  him  go 
slow; 

White-lipped  from  her  praying,  she  sat, 
with  shut  eyes, 

Begging  help  from  her  Helper,  the  death- 
less, the  wise. 

From  the  gold  of  his  branches  her  Helper 

took  heed, 
He  sent  forth  a  thought  to  help  Charles  in 

his  need. 
As  the  white,  gleaming  gannet  eyes  fish  in 

the  sea. 
So  the  thought  sought  a  mortal  to  bring 

this  to  be. 

By  the  side  of  Exception  Bun  Manor  now 
stood 


88  RIGHT  ROYAL 

Sopping  rags  on  a  hock  that  was  dripping 

bright  blood. 
He  had  known  Charles  of  old  and  defeat 

made  him  kind, 
The  thought  from  the  Helper  came  into  his 

mind. 

So  he  cried  to  Charles  Cothill,  **Go  easy,'' 

he  cried, 
** Don't  hurry;  don't  worry;  sit  still  and 

keep  wide. 
They  flowed  like  the  Severn,  they'll  ebb 

like  the  tide. 
They'll  come  back  and  you'll  catch  them." 

His  voice  died  away. 
In  front  lay  the  Dyke,  deep  as  drowning, 

steel  grey. 

Charles  felt  his  horse  see  it  and  stir  at  the 

sight. 
Again  his  heart  lifted  to  the  dream  of  the 

night; 


RIGHT   ROYAL  89 

Once  again  in  his  heart's  blood  the  horse 

seemed  to  say, 
''I'll  die  or  I'll  do  it.   It's  my  day  to-day." 

He  saw  the  grey  water  in  shade  from  its 

fence, 
The  rows  of  white  faces  all  staring  intense; 
All  the  heads  straining  forward,  all  the 

shoulders  packt  dense. 
Beyond,  he  saw  'Thankful,  the  riderless 

brown. 
Snatching  grass,   dodging   capture,  with 

reins  hanging  down. 

Then  Thankful  stopped  eating  and  cocked 

up  his  head. 
He  eyed  the  swift  horses  that  Kubbadar 

led, 
His  eye  filled  with  fire  at  the  roll  of  their 

tread; 
Then  he  tore  down  the  course  with  a  flash 

of  bright  shoes, 


90  RIGHT   ROYAL 

As  the  race's  bright  herald  on  fire  with 
news. 

As  Charles  neared  the  water,  the  Rocket 

ran  out 
By  jumping  the  railings  and  kicking  a  clout 
Of  rotten  white  woodwork  to  startle  the 

trout. 
When  Charles  cleared  the  water,  the  grass 

stretcht  before 
And  the  glory  of  going  burned  in  to  the 

core. 

Far  over  his  head  with  a  whicker  of  wings 
Came  a  wisp  of  five  snipe  from  a  field  full 

of  springs; 
The  gleam  on  their  feathers  went  wavering 

past 

And  then  some  men  booed  him  for  being 

the  last. 

But  last  though  he  was,  all  his  blood  was 
on  fire 


RIGHT   ROYAL  91 

With  the  rnsh  of  the  wind  and  the  gleam 

of  the  mire, 
And  the  leap  of  his  heart  to  the  skylarks  in 

quire, 
And  the  feel  of  his  horse  going  onward, 

on,  on, 
Under  sky  with  white  banners  and  bright 

sun  that  shone. 

Like  a  star  in  the  night,  like  a  spring  in  the 

waste. 
The  image  of  Emmy  rose  up  as  he  raced. 
Till  his  mind  was  made  calm,  and  his  spirit 

was  braced. 
For  the  prize  was  bright  Emmy;  his  blood 

beat  and  beat 
As  her  beauty  made  music  in  that  thunder 

of  feet. 

The  wind  was  whirled  past  him,  it  hummed 
in  his  ears, 


92  RIGHT  ROYAL 

Right  RoyaPs  excitement  had  banished  his 

fears, 
For  his  leap  was  like  singing,  his  stride 

was  like  cheers, 
All  his  blood  was  in  glory,  all  his  soul  was 

blown  bare, 
They  were  one,  blood  and  purpose,  they 

strode  through  the  air. 

"What  is  life  if  I  lose  her,  what  is  death  if 

I  win? 
At  the  end  of  this  living  the  new  lives  begin. 
Whatever  life  may  be,  whatever  death  is, 
I  am  spirit  eternal,  I  am  this,  I  am  this!'' 

Girls  waved,  and  men  shouted,  like  flashes, 

like  shots. 
Out  of  pale  blurs  of  faces  whose  features 

were  dots; 
Two  fences  with  toppings  were  cleared 

without  hitch. 
Then  they  ran  for  Lost  Lady's,  a  fence  and 

dry  ditch. 


RIGHT  ROYAL  93 

Here  Monkery  *s  rider,  on  seeing  a  chance, 

Shot  out  beyond  Soyland  to  lead  the  ad- 
vance. 

Then  he  steadied  and  summed  up  his  field 
with  a  glance. 

All  crossed  the  Lost  Lady's,  that  dry  ditch 
of  fear, 

Then  a  roar  broke  about  them,  the  race- 
course was  near. 

Eight  and  left  were  the  swing-boats  and 
merry-go-rounds, 

Yellow  varnish  that  wavered,  machines 
making  sounds, 

Eifles  cracking  like  cork-pops,  fifes  whin- 
ing with  steam, 

**A11  hot,"  from  a  pieman;  all  blurred  as 
in  dream. 

Then  the  motors,  then  cheering,  then  the 

brass  of  a  band. 
Then  the  white  rails  all  crowded  with  a 

mob  on  each  hand. 


94  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Then  they  swerved  to  the  left  over  gorse- 

bush  and  hurdle 
And  they  rushed  for  the  Water  where  a 

man's  blood  might  curdle. 

Charles  entered  the  race-course  and  prayed 

in  his  mind 
That  love  for  the  moment  might  make 

Emmy  blind, 
Not  see  him  come  past  haK  a  distance 

behind; 
For  an  instant  he  thought,  **I  must  shove 

on  ahead, 
For  to  pass  her  like  this,  Lord,  I'd  rather 

be  dead." 

Then,  in  crossing  the  hurdle  the  Stand 

arose  plain. 
All  the  flags,  horns  and  cheers  beat  like 

blows  on  his  brain, 
And  he  thought,  ''Time  to  race  when  I 

come  here  again, 


RIGHT   ROYAL  96 

If  I  once  lose  my  head,  I'll  be  lost  past 

appeal.'' 
All  the  crowd  flickered  past  like  a  film  on 

a  reel. 

Like  a  ribbon,  whirled  past  him,  all  painted 

with  eyes. 
All  the  real,  as  he  rode,  was  the  horse  at 

his  thighs, 
And  the  thought  **  They '11  come  back,  if 

I've  luck,  if  I'm  wise." 
Some  banners  uncrumpled  on  the  blue  of 

the  skies. 
The  cheers  became  frantic,  the  blur  of  men 

shook, 
As  Thankful  and  Kubbadar  went  at  the 

brook. 

Neck  and  neck,  stride  for  stride,  they  in- 
creased as  they  neared  it. 

Though  the  danger  gleamed  greyly,  they 
galloped  to  beard  it; 


96  BIOHT   ROYAL 

And  Kubbadar  dwelt  on  his  jump  as  he 

cleared  it, 
While  Thankful  went"  on  with  a  half  a 

length  lead. 
Charles    thought,    **  Kubbadar,    there,    is 

going  to  seed.'* 

Then  Monkery  took  it,  then  Soyland,  then 

two. 
Muscatel  and  Sir  Lopez,  who  leaped  not  but 

flew. 
Like  a  pair  of  June  swallows  going  over 

the  dew. 
Like  a  flight  of  bright  fishes  from  a  field 

of  seas  blue, 
Like  a  wisp  of  snipe  wavering  in  the  dusk 

out  of  view. 
Then  Red  Ember,  Path  Finder,  Gavotte 

and  Coranto, 
Then  The  Ghost  going  level  by  Syringa 

a-taunto, 


RIGHT   ROYAL  97 

Then  Peterkinooks,  then  the  Cimmeroon 
black, 

Who  had  gone  to  his  horses,  not  let  them 
come  back ; 

Then  Stormalong  rousing,  then  the  Blow- 
bury  crack, 

Counter  Vair,  going  grandly  beside  Cross- 
Molin, 

All  charged  the  bright  brook  and  Coranto 
went  in. 


Natuna,  Grey  Glory  and  Hadrian  followed, 

Flying  clear  of  the  water  where  Coranto 
now  wallowed; 

Cannonade  leaped  so  big  that  the  lookers- 
on  holloed. 

Ere  the  splash  from  Coranto  was  bright  on 
the  grass. 

The  face  of  the  water  had  seen  them  all 
pass. 


»8  RIGHT   ROYAL 

But  Coranto  half  scrambled,  then  slipped 

on  his  side, 
Then  churned  in  the  mud  till  the  brook  was 

all  dyed; 
As  Charles  reached  the  water  Coranto  ^s 

man  cried, 
**Put  him  at  it  like  blazes  and  give  him  a 

switch; 
Jump  big,  man,  for  God's  sake,  I'm  down 

in  the  ditch.'' 

Right  Royal  went  at  it  and  streamed  like  a 
comet. 

And  the  next  thing  Charles  knew,  he  was 
twenty  yards  from  it; 

And  he  thought  about  Em  as  he  rushed  past 
her  place. 

With  a  prayer  for  God's  peace  on  her  beau- 
tiful face. 

Then  he  tried  to  keep  steady.  *  *  0  steady, ' ' 
he  said. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  99 

*'I'm  riding  with  judgment,  not  leading  a 
raid, 

And  I^m  getting  excited,  and  there's  Can- 
nonade. 

What's  the  matter T'  he  shouted,  as  Royal 
swept  past. 

*^ Sprained!"  shouted  the  man,  ** Over- 
jumped, at  the  last. ' ' 

** Rough  luck,"  shouted  Charles.  Then  the 
crowd  dropped  away, 

Then  the  sun  shone  behind  him,  the  bright 
turned  to  grey; 

They  were  round,  the  first  time,  they  were 
streaming  away 

For  the  second  time  round.  There  the  start- 
ing-post shone. 

Then  they  swung  round  the  curve  and  went 
galloping  on. 

All  the  noise  died  behind,  Fate  was  waiting 
in  front, 


100  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Now  the  racing  began,  they  had  done  with 

the  hunt. 
With  the  sunlight  behind  him  Charles  saw 

how  they  went; 
No  nearer,  but  further,  and  only  one  spent. 

Only  Kubbadar  dwelling,  the  rest  going 

strong. 
Taking  jump  after  jump  as  a  bird  takes  a 

song. 
Their  thirty  lengths'  lead  seemed  a  weary 

way  long. 
It  seemed  to  grow  longer,  it  seemed  to 

increase: 
**This  is  bitter,"  he  said.    ''May  it  be  for 

my  peace. 

My  dream  was  a  glimpse  of  the  world 

beyond  sense. 
All    beauty    and    wisdom    are    messages 

thence. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  101 

There  the  difference  of  bodies  and  the  strain 

of  control 
Are  removed;  beast  with  man  speaks,  and 

spirit  with  soul. 

My  vision  was  wisdom,  or  the  World  as  it 

Is. 
Fate  rules  us,  not  Wisdom,  whose  ways 

are  not  his, 
Fate,  weaponed  with  all  things,  has  willed 

that  I  fall; 
So  be  it.  Fate  orders,  and  we  go  to  the  wall. 

Go  down  to  the  beaten,  who  have  come  to 

the  truth 
That  is  deeper  than  sorrow  and  stropger 

than  youth, 
That  is  God,  the  foundation,  who  sees  and 

is  just 
To  the  beauty  within  us  who  are  nothing 

but  dust. 


102  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Yet,    Eoyal,    my    comrade,    before    Fate 

decides, 
His  hand  stays,  uncertain,  like  the  sea 

between  tides. 
Then  a  man  has  a  moment,  if  he  strike  not 

too  late. 
When  his  soul  shakes  the  world-soul,  and 

can  even  change  Fate. 

So  you  and  I,  Royal,  before  we  give  in 
Will  spend  blood  and  soul  in  our  effort  to 

win. 
And  if  all  be  proved  vain  when  our  effort 

is  sped. 
May  the  hoofs  of  our  conquerors  trample 

us  dead.'' 

Then  the  soul  of  Eight  Royal  thrilled  up 
through  each  hand, 

**We  are  one,  for  this  gallop;  we  both  un- 
derstand. 

If  my  lungs  give  me  breathing,  if  my  loins 
stand  the  strain. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  108 

You  may  lash  me  to  strips  and  it  shan't  be 
in  vain. 

For  to-day,  in  this  hour,  my  Power  will 

come 
From  my  Past  to  my  Present  (and  a  Spirit 

gives  some). 
We  have  gone  many  gallops,  we  two,  in 

the  past. 
When  I  go  with  my  Power  yon  will  know 

me  at  last. 

You  remember  the  morning  when  the  red 

leaf  hung  still, 
When  they  found  in  the  beech-clump  on 

Lollingdon  Hill, 
When  we  led  past  the  Sheep  Fold  and  along 

the  Fair  Mile? 
When  I  go  with  my  Power,  that  will  not 

seem  worth  while. 

Then  the  day  in  the  valley  when  we  found 
in  the  wood. 


104  RIGHT   ROYAL 

When  we  led  all  the  gallop  to  the  river  in 

flood, 
And  the  sun  burst  out  shining  as  the  fox 

took  the  stream, 
When  I  go  with  my  Power,  that  will  all 

seem  a  dream. 

Then  the  day  on  the  Downland  when  we 
went  like  the  light 

From  the  spring  by  Hurst  Compton  till  the 
Clump  was  in  sight. 

Till  we  killed  by  The  Romans,  where  Blow- 
bury  is. 

All  the  best  of  that  gallop  shall  be  nothing 
to  this. 

If  I  failed  in  the  past  with  my  Power  away, 
I  was  only  my  shadow,  it  was  not  my  day, 
So  I  sulked  like  my  sire,  or  shrank,  like 

my  dam; 
Now  I  come  to  my  Power  you  will  know 

what  I  am. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  105 

I've  the  strength,  youVe  the  brain,  we  are 

running  as  one 
And  nothing  on  earth  can  be  lost  till  it's 

won. 
If  I  live  to  the  end,  naught  shall  put  you 

to  shame." 
So  he  thrilled,  going  flame-like,  with  a 

crinier  of  flame. 


'*Yet,''  he  thrilled,  *^It  may  be,  that  before 

the  end  come 
Death  will  touch  me,  the  Changer,  and 

carry  me  home. 
For  we  know  not,  0  master,  when  our  life 

shall  have  rest, 
But  the  Life  is  near  change  that  has  uttered 

its  best. 
If  we  grow  like  the  grasses,  we  fall  like 

the  flower. 
And  I  know,  I  touch  Death  when  I  come  to 

my  Power.*' 


1G6  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Now  over  the  course  flew  invisible  birds, 
All  the  Wants  of  the  Watchers,  all  the 

thoughts  and  winged  words, 
Swift  as  floatings  of  fire  from  a  bonfire's 

crest 
When  they  burn  leaves  on  Kimble  and  the 

fire  streams  west, 

Bright  an  instant,  then  dying,  but  renewed 

and  renewed, 
So  the  thoughts  chased  the  racers  like 

hounds  that  pursued. 
Bringing  cheer  to  their  darlings,  bringing 

curse  to  their  foes. 
Searching    into    men's    spirits    till    their 

Powers  arose. 

Red  and  rigid  the  Powers  of  the  riding  men 

were. 
And  as  sea  birds  on  Ailsa,  in  the  nesting 

time  there, 
Bise  like  leaves  in  a  whirlwind  and  float 

like  leaves  blown, 


RIGHT   ROYAL  107 

So  the  wants  chased  the  riders  and  fought 
for  their  own. 

Unseen  by  the  riders,  from  the  myriad 
tense  brains 

Came  the  living  thoughts  flying  to  clutch 
at  men  ^s  reins, 

Clearing  paths  for  their  darlings  by  run- 
ning in  cry 

At  the  heads  of  their  rivals  till  the  darlings 
gat  by 

As  in  football,  when  forwards  heave  all  in 

a  pack. 
With  their  arms  round  each  other  and  their 

heels  heeling  back. 
And  their  bodies  all  straining,   as  they 

heave,  and  men  fall, 
And  the  halves  hover  hawklike  to  pounce 

on  the  ball, 

And  the  runners  poise  ready,  while  the 
mass  of  hot  men 


108  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Heaves  and  slips,  like  rough  bullocks  mak- 
ing play  in  a  pen, 

And  the  crowd  sees  the  heaving,  and  is 
still,  till  it  break. 

So  the  riders  endeavoured  as  they  strained 
for  the  stake. 


They  skimmed  through  the  grassland,  they 

came  to  the  plough. 
The  wind  rushed  behind  them  like  the 

waves  from  a  prow. 
The  clods  rose  behind  them  with  speckles 

of  gold 
From  the  iron-crusht  coltsfoot  flung  up 

from  the  mould. 

All  green  was  the  plough  with  the  thrusts 
of  young  corn. 

Pools  gleamed  in  the  ruts  that  the  cart- 
wheels had  worn. 

And  Kubbadar's  man  wished  he  had  not 
been  bom. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  109 

Natuna  was  weary  and  dwelt  on  her  stride, 
Grey  Glory's  grey  tail  rolled  about,  side 
to  side. 

Then  swish,  came  a  shower,  from  a  driving 

grey  cloud 
Though  the  blue  sky  shone  brightly  and 

the  larks  sang  aloud. 
As  the  squall  of  rain  pelted,  the  coloured 

caps  bowed, 
With  Thankful  still  leading  and  Monkery 

close, 
The  hoofs  smacked  the  clayland,  the  flying 

clods  rose. 

They   slowed  on  the   clayland,   the   rain 

pelted  by, 
The  end  of  a  rainbow  gleamed  out  in  the 

sky; 
Natuna  dropped  back  till  Charles  heard 

her  complain. 
Grey  Glory's  forequarters  seemed  hung  on 

his  rein, 


no  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Cimmeroon  clearly  was  feeling  the  strain. 
But  the  little  Gavotte  skimmed  the  clay 

like  a  witch, 
Charles  saw  her  coquet  as  she  went  at 

Jim^s  Pitch. 


They  went  at  Jim's  Pitch,  through  the 
deeply  dug  gaps 

Where  the  hoofs  of  great  horses  had  kicked 
off  the  scraps, 

And  there  at  the  water  they  met  with  mis- 
haps. 

For  Natuna  stopped  dead  and  Grey  Glory 
went  in 

And  a  cannon  on  landing  upset  Cross-Molin. 


As  swallows  bound  northward  when  apple- 
bloom  blows. 

See  laggards  drop  spent  from  their  flight 
as  it  goes. 

Yet  can  pause  not  in  Heaven  as  they  scythe 
the  thin  air 


RIGHT   ROYAL  111 

But  go  on  to  the  house-eaves  and  the  nests 

clinging  bare, 
So  Charles  flashed  beyond  them,  those  three 

men  the  less 
Who  had  gone  to  get  glory  and  met  with 

distress. 

He  rode  to  the  rise-top,  and  saw,  down  the 

slope, 
The  race  far  ahead  at  a  steady  strong  lope 
Going  over  the  grassland,  too  well  for  his 

peace, 
They  were  steady  as  oxen  and  strong  as 

wild  geese. 

As  a  man  by  a  cornfield  on  a  windy  wild 
day 

Sees  the  corn  bow  in  shadows  ever  hurry- 
ing away. 

And  wonders,  in  watching,  when  the  light 
with  bright  feet 

Will  harry  those  shadows  from  the  ears  of 
the  wheat, 


112  RIGHT   ROYAL 

So  Charles,  as  lie  watched,  wondered  when 
the  bright  face 

Of  the  finish  would  blaze  on  that  smoulder- 
ing race. 

On  the  last  of  the  grass,  ere  the  going  was 

dead, 
Counter  Vair's  man  shot  out  with  his  horse 

by  the  head. 
Like  a  partridge  put  up  from  the  stubble 

he  sped. 
He  dropped  Kubbadar  and  he  flew  by  Red 

Ember 
Up   to   Monkery's   girth   like   a  leaf   in 

November. 

Then  Stormalong  followed,  and  went  to  the 

front. 
And  just  as  the  find  puts  a  flame  to  a  hunt. 
So  the  rush  of  those  horses  put  flame  to 

the  race. 
Charles  saw  them  all  shaken  to  quickening 

pace. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  113 

And  Monkery  moved,  not  to  let  them  go  by, 

And  the  steadiest  rider  made  ready  to  fly; 

Well  into  the  wet  land  they  leaped  from 
the  dry, 

They  scattered  the  rain-pools  that  mir- 
rored the  sky. 

They  crushed  down  the  rushes  that  pushed 
from  the  plough. 

And  Charles  longed  to  follow,  but  mut- 
tered ''Not  now.'' 


**Not  now,''  so  he  thought,  ''Yet  if  not" 

(he  said)  "when 
Shall  I  come  to  those  horses  and  scupper 

their  men! 
Will  they  never  come  back?    Shall  I  never 

get  up!" 
So  he  drank  bitter  gall  from  a  very  cold 

cup. 


But  he  nursed  his  horse  gently  and  prayed 
for  the  best. 


114  RIGHT   ROYAL 

And  he  caught  Cimmeroon,  who  was  sadly 

distrest, 
And    he    passed    Cimmeroon,    with    the 

thought  that  the  black 
Was  as  nearly  dead  beat  as  the  man  on  his 

back. 
Then  he  gained  on  his  field  who  were  galled 

by  the  Chum, 
The  plough  searched  them  out  as  they  came 

to  the  Turn. 
But  Gavotte,  black  and  coral,  went  strong 

as  a  spate 
Charles  thought  *' She's  a  flier  and  she  car- 
ries no  weight." 

And  now,  beyond  question  the  field  began 

tailing, 
For  all  had  been  tested  and  many  were 

ailing. 
The  riders  were  weary,  the  horses  were 

failing. 
The  blur  of  bright  colours  rolled  over  the 

railiag. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  115 

With  the  grunts  of  urged  horses,  and  the 

oaths  of  hot  men, 
**Gerr  on,  you,"  **Come  on,  now,"  agen 

and  agen; 
They  spattered  the  mud  on  the  willow  tree's 

bole 
And  they  charged  at  the  danger;  and  the 

danger  took  toll. 

For  Monkery  landed,  but  dwelt  on  the 
fence 

So  that  Counter  Vair  passed  him  in  gal- 
loping thence. 

Then  Stormalong  blundered,  then  bright 
Muscatel 

Slipped  badly  on  landing  and  stumbled  and 
fell, 

Then  rose  in  the  morrish,  with  his  man  on 

his  neck 
Like  a  nearly  dead  sailor  afloat  on  a  wreck, 
With  his  whip  in  the  mud  and  his  stirrups 

both  gone, 


116  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Yet  he  kept  in  the  saddle  and  made  him 
go  on. 

As  Charles  leaped  the  Turn,  all  the  j5eld 

was  tailed  out 
Like  petals  of  roses  that  wind  blows  about, 
Like   petals   of   colour  blown  back   and 

brought  near. 
Like  poppies  in  wind-flaws  when  com  is 

in  ear, 
Fate  held  them  or  sped  them,  the  race  was 

beginning. 
Charles  said,   **I  must  ride,  or  I've  no 

chance  of  winning.*' 

So  gently  he  quickened,  yet  making  no  call; 
Right  Royal  replied  as  though  knowing  it 

all, 
He  passed  Kubbadar  who  was  ready  to  fall, 
Then  he  strode  up  to  Hadrian,  up  to  his 

girth. 
They  eyed  the  Dyke's  glitter  and  picked 

out  a  berth. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  117 

Now  the  race  reached  the  water  and  over 

it  flew 
In  a  sweep  of  great  muscle  strained  taut 

and  guyed  true. 
There  Muscatel  floundered  and  came  to  a 

halt, 
Muscatel,  the  bay  chaser  without  any  fault. 


Right  Royal's  head  lifted,  Right  Royal  took 

charge. 
On  the  left  near  the  railings,  ears  cocked, 

going  large, 
Leaving  Hadrian  behind  as  a  yacht  leaves 

a  barge. 
Though  Hadrian's  rider  called  something 

unheard, 
He  was  past  him  at  speed  like  the  albatross 

bird. 
Running  up  to  Path  Finder,  they  leaped, 

side  by  side. 
And  the  foam  from  Path  Finder  flecked 

white  on  his  hide. 


118  RIGHT   ROYAL 

And   on   landing,   he    lifted,   while   Path 

Finder  dwelt. 
And  his  noble  eye  brightened  from  the 

glory  he  felt. 
And  the  mud  flung  behind  him  flicked  Path 

Finder's  chest, 
As  he  left  him  behind  and  went  on  to  the 

rest. 

Charles  cast  a  glance  back,  but  he  could 

not  divine 
Why  the  man  on  Path  Finder  should  make 

him  a  sign. 
Nor  why  Hadrian's  rider  should  shout,  and 

then  point. 
With  his  head  nodded  forward  and  a  jerked 

elbow  joint. 

But  he  looked  as  he  pointed,  both  forward 

and  down. 
And  he  saw  that  Eight  Eoyal  was  smeared 

like  a  clown, 


RIGHT   ROYAL  119 

Smeared  red  and  bespattered  with  flecks  of 
bright  blood, 

From  a  blood-vessel  burst,  as  he  well  under- 
stood. 

And  just  as  he  saw  it.  Eight  Eoyal  went 
strange 

As  one  whom  Death's  finger  has  touched  to 
a  change; 

He  went  with  a  stagger  that  sickened  the 
soul, 

As  a  force  stricken  feeble  and  out  of  con- 
trol. 

Charles  thought,  *'He  is  dying,  and  this  is 

the  end, 
I  am  losing  my  Emmy  and  killing  my 

friend; 
He  was  hurt  when  we  fell,  as  I  thought  at 

the  first. 
And  I've  forced  him  three  miles  with  a 

blood-vessel  burst. 


120  RIGHT   ROYAL 

And  his  game  heart  went  on.''  Here  a  rush 
close  behind 

Made  him  cast  a  glance  back  with  despair 
in  his  mind. 

It  was  Cimmeroon  rushing,  his  lips  twitcht 
apart, 

His  eyes  rolled  back  sightless,  and  death 
in  his  heart. 

He  reached  to  Right  Royal,  then  fell,  and 
was  dead, 

Nevermore  to  stretch  reins  with  his  beauti- 
ful head. 

A  gush  of  bright  blood  filled  his  mouth  as 
he  sank. 

And  he  reached  out  his  hoofs  to  the  heave 
of  his  flank. 

And  Charles,  leaning  forward,  made  cer- 
tain, and  cried, 

*^This  is  Cimmeroon 's  blood,  blown  in  pass- 
ing beside, 


RIGHT   ROYAL  121 

And  Eoy*s  going  strangely  was  just  that 

he  felt 
Death  coming  behind  him,  or  blood  that 

he  smelt." 


So  Charles's  heart  lightened  and  Eoyal 

went  steady 
As  a  water  bound  seaward  set  free  from 

an  eddy, 
As  a  water  sucked  downward  to  leap  at  a 

weir 
Sucked  swifter  and  swifter  till  it  shoot  like 

a  spear. 

There,  a  mile  on  ahead,  was  the  Stand  like 
a  cliff. 

Grey  wood,  packed  with  faces,  under  ban- 
ners blown  stiff, 

Where,  in  two  minutes  more,  they  would 
cheer  for  him — if — 


122  RIGHT   ROYAL 

If  he  came  to  those  horses  still  twelve 

/lengths  ahead. 
* '  0  Eoyal,  you  do  it,  or  kill  me ! ' '  he  said. 

They  went   at  the  hurdle  as   though   it 

weren't  there, 
White  splinters  of  hurdle  flew  up  in  the 

air. 
And  down,  like  a  rabbit,  went  Syringa  the 

mare; 
Her  man  somersaulted  right  under  Gavotte, 
And  Syringa  went  on  but  her  rider  did  not. 

But  the  little  Gavotte  tucked  her  feet  away 
clear. 

Just  an  inch  to  one  side  of  the  fallen  man's 
ear, 

With  a  flash  of  horse  wisdom  as  she  went 
on  the  wing 

Not  to  tread  on  man's  body,  that  marvel- 
lous thing. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  123 

As  in  mill-streams  in  summer  the  dark 
water  drifts 

Petals  mown  in  the  hayfield  skimmed  over 
by  swifts, 

Petals  blue  from  the  speedwell  or  sweet 
from  the  lime, 

And  the  fish  rise  to  test  them,  as  they  float, 
for  a  time. 

Yet  they  all  loiter  sluicewards  and  are 
whirled,  and  then  drowned, 

So  the  race  swept  the  horses  till  they  glim- 
mered the  ground. 

Charles  looked  at  those  horses,  and  speed- 
ily guesst 

That  the  roan  horse,  Red  Ember,  was  one 
of  the  best; 

He  was  level  and  easy,  not  turning  a  hair, 

But  with  power  all  ready  when  his  rider 
should  care. 

And  he  leaped  like  a  lover  and  his  coat  still 
did  shine. 


124  RIQBT  ROYAL 

Charles  thought,  *'He's  a  wonder,  and  he^s 
twelve  lengths  from  mine.'* 


There  were  others  still  in  it,  according  to 

looks : — 
Sir  Lopez,  and  Soyland,  and  Peterkinooks, 
Counter  Vair  and  Gavotte,  all  with  plenty 

to  spend; 
Then  Monkery  worn,  and  The  Ghost  at  his 

end. 
But  the  roan  horse,  Red  Ember,  seemed 

playing  a  game. 
Charles  thought,  **He*s  the  winner;  he  can 

run  us  all  tame." 
The  wind  brought  a  tune  and  a  faint  noise 

of  cheers. 
Right  Royal  coquetted  and  cocked  up  his 

ears. 

Charles  saw  his  horse  gaining;  the  going 
increased; 


RIGHT   ROYAL  125 

His  touch  on  the  mouth  felt  the  soul  of  the 

beast, 
And  the  heave  of  each  muscle  and  the  look 

of  his  eye 
Said,  **I*11  come  to  those  horses,  and  pass 

them,  or  die. ' ' 

Like  a  thing  in  a  dream  the  grey  buildings 

drew  nearer. 
The  babble  rose  louder  and  the  organ's 

whine  clearer. 
The  hurdle  came  closer,  he  rushed  through 

its  top 
Like  a  comet  in  heaven  that  nothing  can 

stop. 

Then  they  strode  the  green  grass  for  the 

Lost  Lady's  grave. 
And  Charles  felt  Eight  Royal  rise  up  like 

a  wave. 
Like  a  wave  far  to  seaward  that  lifts  in  a 

line 


126  RIGHT  ROYAL 

And  advances  to  shoreward  in  a  slipping 
incline, 

And    climbs,    and    comes    toppling,    and 

advances  in  glory. 
Mounting    inwards,    marching    onwards, 

with  his  shoulders  all  hoary, 
Sweeping    shorewards    with    a    shouting 

to  burst  on  the  sand. 
So  Right  Royal  sent  meaning  through  the 

rein  in  each  hand. 

Charles  felt  like  a  captain  whose  ship  has 

long  chased 
Some  ship  better  handled,  better  manned, 

better  placed. 
And  has  all  day  beheld  her,  that  ship  of  his 

dream. 
Bowing  swanlike  beyond  him  up  a  blue  hill 

of  gleam. 
Yet,  at  dark,  the  wind  rising  makes  his 

rival  strike  sail 


RIGHT  ROYAL  127 

While  his  own  ship  crowds  canvas  and 
comes  within  hail; 

Till  he  see  her,  his  rival,  snouting  into  the 
grey, 

Like  a  sea-rock  in  winter  that  stands  and 
breaks  spray, 

And  by  lamplight  goes  past  her  in  a  roar- 
ing of  song 

Shouting,  ^^Let  fall  your  royals:  stretch 
the  halliards  along!'' 

Now  The  Ghost  dropped  behind  him,  now 

his  horses  drew  close. 
Charles  watched  them,  in  praying,  while 

his  hopes  rose  and  rose, 
**0  God,  give  me  patience,  give  me  luck, 

give  me  skill. 
For  he's  going  so  grandly  I  think  that  he 

will." 

They  went  at  Lost  Lady's  like  Severn  at 
flood, 


128  RIGHT   ROYAL 

With  an  urging  of  horses  and  a  squelching 

of  mud; 
By  the  hot  flanks  of  horses  the  toppings 

were  bruised, 
And  Syringa  the  manless  swerved  right 

and  refused. 

Swerved  right  on  a  sudden,  as  none  could 

expect, 
Straight  into  Right  Royal,  who  slithered 

and  pecked, 
Though  Charles  held  him  up  and  got  safely 

across. 
He  was  round  his  nag's  neck  within  touch 

of  a  toss. 

He  gat  to  his  saddle,  he  never  knew  how; 
What  hope  he  had  had  was  knocked  out  of 

him  now. 
But  his  courage  came  back  ag  his  terror 

declined. 
He  spoke  to  Right  Royal  and  made  up  his 

mind. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  129 

He  judged  the  lengths  lost  and  the  chance 

that  remained, 
And  he  followed  his  field,  and  he  gained, 

and  he  gained. 

He  watched  them,  those  horses,  so  splen- 
did, so  swift, 
Whirled   down   the   green  roadway   like 

leaves  in  the  lift: 
Now  he  measured  their  mettle,  and  said 

with  a  moan, 
**They  can  beat  me.  Lord  help  me,  though 

they  give  me  a  stone. 
Red  Ember's  a  wonder,  and  Soyland's  the 

same. 
And  Gavotte  there  *s  a  beauty,  and  she  goes 

like  a  flame; 
But  Peterkinooks,  that  I  used  to  despise. 
Is  the  horse  that  must  win  if  his  looks  are 

not  lies.'' 

Their  bright  colours  flitted  as  at  dusk  in 
Brazil 


130  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Bright  birds  reach  the  tree-tops  when  the 

land  wind  falls  still, 
When  the  sky  is  all  scarlet  on  the  tops  of 

the  treen 
Comes  a  whirl  of  birds  flying,  blue  and 

orange  and  green. 

As  a  whirl  of  notes  running  in  a  fugue  that 
men  play. 

And  the  thundering  follows  as  the  pipe 
flits  away, 

And  the  laughter  comes  after  and  the  haut- 
boys begin, 

So  they  ran  at  the  hurdle  and  scattered  the 
whin. 

As  they  leaped  to  the  race-course  the  sun 
burst  from  cloud 

And  like  tumult  in  dream  came  the  roar  of 
the  crowd. 

For  to  right  and  to  left,  now,  were  crowded 
men  yelling. 


RIQHT   ROYAL  131 

And  a  great  cry  boomed  backward  like 
muffled  bells  knelling, 

And  a  surge  of  men  running  seemed  to  fol- 
low the  race, 

The  horses  all  trembled  and  quickened  their 
pace. 

As  the  porpoise,  grown  weary  of  his  rush 
through  the  dim 

Of  the  unlitten  silence  where  the  swift- 
nesses swim. 

Learns  at  sudden  the  tumult  of  a  clipper 
bound  home 

And  exults  with  this  playmate  and  leaps 
in  her  foam, 

Or  as  nightingales  coming  into  England  in 

May, 
Coming  songless  at  sunset,  being  worn  with 

the  way, 
Settle  spent  in  the  twilight,  drooping  head 

under  wing, 


132  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Yet  are  glad  when  the  dark  comes,  while 
at  moonrise  they  sing; 

Or  as  fire  on  a  hillside,  by  happy  boys 

kindled. 
That  has  burnt  black  a  heath-tuft,  scorcht 

a  bramble,  and  dwindled. 
Blown  by  wind  yet  arises  in  a  wave  of 

flogged  flame. 
So  the  souls  of  those  horses  to  the  testing 

time  came. 

Now  they  closed  on  their  leaders,  and  the 
running  increased, 

They  rushed  down  the  arc  curving  round 
to  the  east; 

All  the  air  rang  with  roaring,  all  the  peo- 
pled loud  stands 

Roared  aloud  from  tense  faces,  shook  with 
hats  and  waved  hands. 

So  they  cleared  the  green  gorse-bush  by 
bursting  it  through. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  133 

There  was  no  time  for  thinking,  there  was 

scarce  time  to  do. 
Charles  gritted  his  spirit  as  he  charged 

through  the  gorse : 
*'You  must  just  grin  and  suffer:  sit  still  on 

your  horse.'' 

There  in  front  was  a  hurdle  and  the  Dis- 
tance Post  white, 

And  the  long,  green,  broad  Straight  washed 
with  wind  and  blown  bright; 

Now  the  roaring  had  screaming,  bringing 
names  to  their  ears: 

**Come,  Soyland!''  *^Sir  LopezI''  Then 
catcalls;  then  cheers. 

*'Sir  Lopez!  Sir  Lopez!"  then  the  jigging 

brass  laughter 
From  the  yellow  tost  swing-boats  swooping 

rafter  to  rafter. 
Then  the  blare  of  all  organs,  then  the  roar 

of  all  throats. 


134  RIGHT   ROYAB 

And  they  shot  past  the  side  shows,  the 
horses  and  boats. 

Now  the  Wants  of  the  Watchers  whirled 

into  the  race 
Like  flames  in  their  fury,  like  men  in  the 

face. 
Mad-red  from  the  Wanting  that  made  them 

alive. 
They  fought  with  those  horses  or  helped 

them  to  strive. 

Like  leaves  blown  on  Hudson  when  maples 

turn  gold, 
They  whirled  in  their  colour,  they  clutched 

to  catch  hold. 
They  sang  to  the  riders,  they  smote  at  their 

hearts 
Like  flakes  of  live  fire,  like  castings  of 

darts. 

As  a  snow  in  Wisconsin  when  the  darkness 
comes  down. 


RIGHT  ROYAL  135 

Running  white  on  the  prairie,  making  all 
the  air  brown, 

Blinding  men  with  the  hurry  of  its  mil- 
lions of  feet. 

So  the  Wants  pelted  on  them,  so  they 
blinded  and  beat. 


And  like  spirits  calm  shining  upon  horses 

of  flame, 
Came  the  Friends  of  those  riders  to  shield 

them  from  shame, 
White  as  fire  white-burning,  rushing  each 

by  his  friend. 
Singing  songs  of  the  glory  of  the  world 

without  end; 

And  as  men  in  Wisconsin  driving  cars  in 

the  snow 
Butt  against  its  impulsion  and  face  to  the 

blow. 
Tossing  snow  from  their  bonnets  as  a  ship 

tosses  foam. 


136  BIGHT   ROYAL 

So  the  Friends  tossed  the  Wantings  as  they 
brought  their  friends  home. 

Now  they  charged  the  last  hurdle  that  led 
to  the  Straight, 

Charles  longing  to  ride,  though  his  spirit 
said  ^*  Waif 

He  came  to  his  horses  as  they  came  to  the 
leap, 

Eight  hard-driven  horses,  eight  men  breath- 
ing deep. 

On  the  left,  as  he  leaped  it,  a  flashing  of 

brown 
Kicking  white  on  the  grass,  showed  that 

Thankful  was  down; 
Then  a  glance  right  and  left  showed,  that 

barring  all  flukes, 
It  was  Soyland^s,  Sir  Lopez',  or  Peter- 

kinooks'. 

For  Stormalong  blundered  and  dwelt  as 
he  landed. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  137 

Counter  Vair's  man  was  beaten  and  Monk- 
ery stranded. 

As  he  reached  to  Red  Ember  the  man  on 
the  red 

Cried,  **Lord,  Charlie  Cothill,  I  thought  you 
were  dead!'' 


He  passed  the  Red  Ember,  he  came  to  the 

flank 
Of  Peterkinooks,  whom  he  reached  and 

then  sank. 
There  were  only  two  others,  going  level 

alone, 
First  the  spotted  cream  jacket,  then  the 

blue,  white  and  roan. 

Up  the  street  of  green  race-course  they 

strained  for  the  prize. 
While  the  stands  blurred  with  waving  and 

the  air  shook  with  cries: 
''Now,   Sir  Lopez!''     ''Come,   Soyland!" 

"Now,  Sir  Lopez!    Now,  now!" 


138  RIGHT   ROYAL 

Then  Charles  judged  his  second,  but  he 
could  not  tell  how. 

But  a  glory  of  sureness  leaped  from  horse 

into  man, 
And  the  man  said,  **Now,  beauty,'*  and 

the  horse  said,  **I  can.'' 
And  the  long  weary  Royal  made  an  effort 

the  more, 
Though  his  heart  thumped  like  drum-beats 

as  he  went  to  the  fore. 

Neck  and  neck  went  Sir  Lopez  and  Soy- 
land  together, 

Soyland  first,  a  short  head,  with  his  neck 
all  in  lather; 

Both  were  ridden  their  hardest,  both  were 
doing  their  best. 

Right  Royal  reached  Soyland  and  came  to 
his  chest. 

There  Soyland 's  man  saw  him  with  the  heel 
of  his  eye, 


RIGHT   ROYAL  139 

A  horse  with  an  effort  that  could  beat  him 

or  tie; 
Then  he  glanced  at  Sir  Lopez,  and  he  bit 

through  his  lip, 
And  he  drove  in  his  spurs  and  he  took  up 

his  whip. 

There  he  lashed  the  game  Soyland  who  had 

given  his  all, 
And  he  gave  three  strides  more,  and  then 

failed  at  the  call. 
And  he  dropped  behind  Royal  like  a  leaf  in 

a  tide: 
Then  Sir  Lopez  and  Royal  ran  on  side  by 

side. 

There  they  looked  at  each  other,  and  they 

rode,  and  were  grim; 
Charles  thought,   ** That's   Sir  Lopez.     I 

shall  never  beat  him.'' 
All  the  yells  for  Sir  Lopez  seemed  to  darken 

the  air, 


140  RIGHT   ROYAL 

They  were  rushing  past  Emmy  and  the 
White  Post  was  there. 

He  drew  to  Sir  Lopez;  but  Sir  Lopez  drew 

clear; 
Right  Royal  clung  to  him  and  crept  to  his 

ear. 
Then  the  man  on  Sir  Lopez  judged  the 

moment  had  come 
For  the  last  ounce  of  effort  that  would 

bring  his  horse  home. 

So  he  picked  up  his  whip  for  three  swift 

slashing  blows, 
And  Sir  Lopez  drew  clear,  but  Right  Royal 

stuck  close. 
Charles  sat  still  as  stone,  for  he  dared  not 

to  stir — 
There  was  that  in  Right  Royal  that  needed 

no  spur. 

In  the  trembling  of  an  instant  power  leaped 
up  within, 


RIGHT   ROYAL  141 

Royal's  pride  of  high  spirit  not  to  let  the 

bay  win. 
Up  he  went,  past  his  withers,  past  his  neck, 

to  his  head, 
With  Sir  Lopez'  man  lashing,  Charles  still, 

seeing  red. 


So  they  rushed  for  one  second,  then  Sir 

Lopez  shot  out: 
Charles  thought,  '* There,  he's  done  me, 

without  any  doubt. 
0  come  now,  Right  Royal!" 

And  Sir  Lopez  changed  feet 
And  his  ears  went  back  level;  Sir  Lopez 

was  beat. 

Right  Royal  went  past  him,  half  an  inch, 

half  a  head, 
Half  a  neck,  he  was  leading,  for  an  instant 

he  led; 
Then  a  hooped  black  and  coral  flew  up  like 

a  shot, 


142  RIGHT   ROYAL 

With  a  lightning-like  effort  from  little 
Gavotte. 

The  little  bright  mare,  made  of  nerves  and 
steel  springs, 

Shot  level  beside  him,  shot  ahead  as  with 
wings. 

Charles  felt  his  horse  quicken,  felt  the  des- 
perate beat 

Of  the  blood  in  his  body  from  his  knees  to 
his  feet. 

Three  terrible  strides  brought  him  up  to 

the  mare. 
Then  they  rushed  to  wild  shouting  through 

a  whirl  of  blown  air; 
Then  Gavotte  died  to  nothing;  Soyland 

came  once  again 
Till  his  muzzle  just  reached  to  the  knot  on 

his  rein. 

Then  a  whirl  of  urged  horses  thundered 
up,  whipped  and  blown. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  143 

Soyland,  Peterkinooks,  and  Red  Ember  the 

roan. 
For  an  instant  they  challenged,  then  they 

drooped  and  were  done; 
Then  the  White  Post  shot  backwards,  Right 

Royal  had  won. 

Won   a  half  length   from  Soyland,  Red 

Ember  close  third; 
Fourth,      Peterkinooks;      fifth.      Gavotte 

harshly  spurred; 
Sixth,  Sir  Lopez,  whose  rider  said  **  Just  at 

the  Straight 
He  swerved  at  the  hurdle  and  twisted  a 

plate.'' 

Then  the  numbers  went  up;  then  John 
Harding  appeared 

To  lead  in  the  Winner  while  the  bookmak- 
ers cheered. 

Then  the  riders  weighed-in,  and  the  meet- 
ing was  over. 


144  RIGHT   ROYAL 

And  bright  Emmy  Crowthorne  could  go 
with  her  lover. 

For  the  bets  on  Eight  Royal  which  Cothill 

had  made 
The  taker  defaulted,  they  never  were  paid; 
The   taker  went   West,   whence   he   sent 

Charles's  bride 
Silver  bit-cups  and  beadwork  on  antelope 

hide. 

Charles  married  his  lady,  but  he  rode  no 

more  races; 
He  lives  on  the  Downland  on  the  blown 

grassy  places, 
Where  he  and  Right  Royal  can  canter  for 

hours 
On  the  flock  bitten  turf  full  of  tiny  blue 

flowers. 

There  the  Roman  pitcht  camp,  there  the 
Saxon  kept  sheep. 


RIGHT   ROYAL  145 

There  he  lives  out  this  Living  that  no  man 

can  keep, 
That  is  manful  but  a  moment  before  it  must 

pass, 
Like  the  stars  sweeping  westward,  like  the 

wind  on  the  grass. 

THE  END. 


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